


Jinxed

by Adelled



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adelled/pseuds/Adelled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by tilleygirl’s You’re the One I’ve Been Dreaming of. Mary moved to Albuquerque, but Brandi and Jinx didn’t.  Gangsters, car chases and gun fights, oh my.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Albuquerque Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine.  
> A/N: Thank you tillygirl for letting me play in your sandbox. A kind of, sort of prequel to Tell Me What You Need.

Jinxed

 

Chapter 1 – Albuquerque Dreaming

Eyes narrowing, Mary squinted as she never squant before. _Is_ _squant even a word?_ Mary wondered. _Before Marshall I_ _would never even have thought about that._ Winter sun streamed through the windows of the Sunshine Building spotlighting Marshall as he sat at his desk in the quiet WITSEC office. _Perfect target._

After meeting the man in her dreams Mary moved to Albuquerque with its funny smelling air, enormous mountains and bright sun. Their shared realistic dreams were proof of a connection even before they met. Marshall thought they had some sort of psychic hot line. Mary wasn’t sure what to call it, but, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t deny it.

 Leaving the Fugitive Task Force hadn’t been difficult. Although she loved the hunt, loved the adrenaline high of kicking in doors and snapping on handcuffs, it was a tough life. Always on the move. Dealing with the worst of the worst. Her view of her fellow man, never sanguine, was sharpened into cynicism by dealing with the society’s scum. It felt good to get these criminals off the street and unable to prey on innocent victims. But she felt her former ‘partner’ was extra weight required by the job. He was in the way. They were partners by assignment, but never functioned that way. She did what she thought necessary. He kept out of her way—if he wanted to keep all his bits attached. She tolerated the other FTF marshals, and most granted her the same consideration.

WITSEC was different. Being partnered with Marshall was very different. Despite their dream connection, she didn’t know what to make of this guy, this geek, this bad ass lawman with the quiet demeanor. _Demeanor, who in the hell says that?_ She had come to trust him, but their approach to witnesses was so different, almost opposites, she couldn’t understand why they worked so well together. In any situation, he knew what she would do next. She seemed to sense when he was going to move and was able to follow, or provide cover, or whatever was needed. It was strange, weird, but she never thought about it until afterwards. Something about those dreams had welded them into a working unit, partners.

Marshall said it was their ‘destiny’ or some such shit. She didn’t believe that, but she was coming to believe him.

Leaving her mother and sister in Paramus was like taking off a girdle. No more waiting for the next mess. No more calls to get her mother from some honky tonk. Fewer hysterical calls from her sister, who called when she found a new pair of sick shoes, and when she actually was sick and needed someone to pick up meds, or hold her hair over the porcelain throne. Brandi and Jinx still called. _Damn cheap cell phone plans._ Being the dutiful daughter and sister, she took their calls, much of the time. 3,000 miles of insulation helped reduce their expectatios. Mary felt drama free. Well, family drama free. The beauty of New Mexico and the devotion of the man sitting at the desk across from her made Albuquerque more comfortable than New Jersey ever was.

WITSEC wasn’t so bad either. She liked telling people what to do. Her witnesses had better toe the MOU or they’d be dead. She felt useful. She liked showing them how to stay beneath the radar, and what to do if they didn’t. She didn’t pull any punches. Criminal informants were treated to Inspector Shannon at full throttle. The threat of her displeasure added to the very real threat posed by those they had ratted out usually got them to toe the line. Mary didn’t get what attracted Marshall to WITSEC. She didn’t understand why he behaved the way he did with witnesses. She did pay attention.

Returning her attention to the WITSEC office and Marshall checking her location while continuing to build his arsenal of paper wad ammunition, she quickly eyeballed the Chief’s office. From what she could see, Stan was focusing on a phone call, and not the two Inspectors spitball battle _. Hope it isn’t another witness transport_ , Mary thought. _We haven’t had a quiet night this week._

Stan was surprised at Mary’s effectiveness. He didn’t believe for a moment that her abrasive pessimism was limited to the office. Marshall had smiled his “I told you so” grin when Stan expressed his approval of Mary’s successes. Marshall’s eyed had twinkled with more than the pleasure at having his opinion of Inspector Shannon validated.

Not every witness was ready for the unvarnished and frequently profane ‘reality’ Mary forced on them. Despite her gruffness, Marshall had seen her go to the mat for a witness. She bent several regs to get Leo Billups biological father co-located with Leo’s adopted family. The resulting arrangement had been surprisingly trouble free and stable. In all his years, neither Marshall nor Stan had ever seen a WITSEC Inspector pull so many strings for a witness. Stan wasn’t sure which (or whose) strings she had pulled. Somewhere, someone owed Inspector Shannon, and she was collecting.

Straw poised for attack, Mary turned and aimed. “Phoo” followed another ‘phoo’ as tiny paper balls were propelled through a straw, failing to penetrate his defenses. “C’mon Mare, you can do better than that,” Marshall taunted. His protective manila folder wall had foiled her assault. “We’re talkin’ spitball cham-peen. Bring your A game.” Marshall loved egging her on. He knew her competitive spirit would drive out common sense and common courtesy.

“I’ll bring it, all right. I am bringin’ it right to that crap load of trivia that passes for your brain,” Mary muttered. She wondered if a properly aimed spitball would cause a gush of trivia all over his desk. “You’re days as spitball champion are so over, Doofus.”

Marshall retaliated with a spitwad that landed balanced on the top edge of her tank top, right between her breasts. “ _Sweet_ ,” he thought. His thoughts wandered to just how her sweet her softness could be. Distracted his manila folder shield dipped.

Mary looked up and down for Marshall’s last shot, but gave that up when she saw she had a clear shot at her opponent. She quickly calculated trajectories; air conditioning and the weight of her paper pellet, the length of the straw. Mary took aim, and landed a damp ball of paper right in the middle of his forehead.

His file folder shield once more in place, Marshall prepared for another assault. Neither heard the door of Stan’s office open or the sound of his footsteps as he approached, folder in hand. He had an officially disapproving but amused twist of his mouth.

Marshall’s cheeks pinked when he realized they’d been caught. Stan arrived at their desks, looked at Marshall, and made a flicking motion toward his forehead. Marshall swiped his forehead removing the offending object. With Marshall distracted, Mary had a clear shot, and took aim.

 “What?”  Mary bleated to Marshall, who nodded in Stan’s direction. She had seen Stan, but took the shot anyway. Stan was a mystery. He seemed to be a big pussycat, but no U.S. Marshal was ever mistaken for a domesticated feline. _Aaargh, Marshall stop putting words in my head!_ For now, she accepted Stan’s direction, usually. For his part, Stan was careful not to give the volatile Inspector “orders,” relying on Marshall to keep her from breaking too many regulations.

 “Oh,” Mary smiled gamely, swept her ‘weapon’ and ‘ammunition; into her desk drawer, and looked up innocently. “Watcha got Stan?”

Stan’s eyes were riveted on the spitball trapped in her cleavage. He cleared his throat, and wrenched his gaze to Marshal. “Inspectors?”  He appered to be asking if these two childish individuals actually were Inspectors and U.S. Marshals.

“There’s been an incident.” He intoned, lightly balancing on the balls of his feet, tapping the folder on his other hand.

“Whose witness?” Marshall asked, mentally skimming through his problem witnesses, knowing Mary was doing the same.

“Technically,” Stan paused, leaning back a bit and taking a breath, “neither of yours.”

Mary sat up straight and caught sight of the spitball in her shirt. She flicked it towards Marshall. Looking back at Stan “Then, why tell us?”

“It’s Jinx,” Stan continued, looking at Mary. ”Jinx Shannon.” As if there was room in the world for two Jinxes. Mary’s face went blank, remembering all the ways her alcoholic mother had gotten into trouble in the past. Turning to Stan, her upturned face waited for the bad news.

“I received notice from the New Jersey Marshal’s office that her car was reported stolen. Neither she or her car have been located.” Stan didn’t like being the bearer of bad news, but he never hesitated. “This is all they’ve got,” he said placing the file folder on her desk.

Mary skimmed the folder’s contents, stood up and pushed her chair back so suddenly it tipped. Stuffing the folder into her messenger bag, she prepared to leave, mumbling “what the hell, ma.” Mary asked flatly “Who reported it?”

“Your sister, Brandi,“ Stan informed her.

Mary paused in her scramble to look at the ceiling, and rolled her eyes. She seemed to be begging the heavens for patience, but Marshall knew she was thinking, calculating. “She’s been gone how long?”

“A little over 24 hours. Not enough for her to be considered missing, but a marshal’s family gets special consideration.” Even though Mary’s family had no idea she was in WITSEC, the service looked out for its own – and their families.

“Breathe, Mare.” Marshall said, attempting to calm her, while his fingers flew over his keyboard. “I’ve got this.” A few more keystrokes and Marshall told her,  “Two tickets to Newark, leaving in two hours.  I’ll meet you at the United counter.”. He stuck files in the desk, locked it and turned off his computer.

 “Stan?” Marshall looked to the Chief. He knew Stan would pull out all the stops for Mary. Since joining Albuquerque WITSEC office, no witnesses had been lost or left the program. That was certain to change over time, but the figures from Albuquerque WITSEC were good, better than most. Despite her negative attitude, she was easy on the eyes and brightened up the place. Mary’s good results weren’t the only reason Stan would help Mary any way he could.

“As soon as I hear anything,” Stan replied, watching Marshall, wondering why his senior Inspector was so affected by whatever had happened to his partner’s mother. He knew they were closes, functioned like a well oiled machine, but he hadn’t given much thought to their relationship or their developing friendship.

Noticing Marshall’s curious expression, Stan followed his gaze to see Mary approaching Eleanor. The two women had a tempestuous relationship, sharpening their barbs on one another. Hoping for a quiet farewell, or at the very least, minimal explosive expletives, neither man was prepared for what happened next.

“I need your help,”  Mary murmured quietly, looking down at her own claspedhands _(I’m not wringing my hands. I’m not.)_ No snark, no derogatory comments, just a quiet plea.

Eleanor looked up, startled by the blonde Inspector’s uncharacteristic civility. She had heard what Stan had told Mary, but was unprepared to see the Inspector right in front of her. She stared at Mary uncomprehending.

“I’ll…I’ll buy you coffee for a month.” Not hearing a reply, but slanting her eyes to the side, Mary continued, “OK, I’ll buy everyone coffee for a month, and, and” she hesitated trying to figure out what would secure Eleanor’s cooperation. “I won’t ask for money.”

Finally, looking at Eleanor, Mary saw her expression soften, when a hard gleam appeared in Eleanor’s eyes.

“You’ll do your own transfer and insertion forms for two months and write up all your own visit reports,” Eleanor demanded sitting up straight in her chair, lips pursed. “And buy coffee for everyone, for a month.” While her cheapness _(frugality, Mary thought)_ was common knowledge, Mary was startled that Eleanor knew Marshall did some of her paperwork. Mary caught Eleanor’s eye and nodded, expression dour.

Eleanor turned to her computer and huffed and said “You know you didn’t have to ask. I was already working on it.”

Mary quirked a half smile and snarked “You mean I don’t have to do my own paperwork?”

“You do now,” Eleanor said acerbically concentrating on the screen before her.

Mary took a deep breath and felt marginally better knowing Eleanor’s considerable skills were being used for her mother. Mary gave her the details Eleanor would need. Marshall realized that she didn’t try to renege on paying for coffee. He knew it meant Mary was deeply concerned.

“This her car?” Eleanor asked, tilting her monitor so Mary could see the car title. “Yeah, that’s it.” Mary acknowledged. “Is there anything from local police, or junk yards? She wouldn’t part with that car. It’s the only thing from Daddy she has.

 “No, Eleanor replied. I’ll keep checking.

“C’mon Mare, let’s get going,” Marshall touched her elbow, urging her through the security door. Mary was silent in the elevator and didn’t speak as Marshall drove them to his place. She walked robotically to the door, stopping to wait for Marshall eyes unfocused.

Once the door closed, Mary turned to Marshall. Standing face to face Mary moaned “What’s she done now?” She was speaking to his shirt front and Marshall took the opportunity to nestle her into his arms. Mary didn’t like to cuddle, but didn’t mind Marshall.

 

 


	2. New Jersey Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Marshall get an unexpected welcome.

 

Chapter 2 – New Jersey Nightmares

They made a quick stop at Marshall’s adding stuff necessary for a longer stay to their go bags . Mary had enough clothes there to make a trip to her own place unnecessary. Marshall stood behind her as she emptied ‘her’ drawer and said “Good thing you have clothes here. We’ll barely make our flight.” Mary exhaled and stood up, leaning back into Marshall. “Yeah,” Mary admitted, “you were right. I’m glad I have stuff here, especially these,” she said holding up a pair of fur lined boots.

With the passenger seat belt snug on her hips, Mary got her phone. “Squish?”

“What’s going on?” Mary moved the phone away from her ear.  The loud wailing sound could be heard throughout the truck.

“Squish, squish – I need to know what happened so I can help.”

The wailing subsided and Mary listened for a few minutes.“Yes, I’m coming.” Marshall smirked, but returned to driving under her death glare. Knowing what she needed next, Marshall handed her their itinerary. “Our flight gets into Newark about 6 p.m.” she told the distraught blonde.

“No, no. You don’t need to come to the airport. We’ll rent something.” Brandi asked something, her sobs clearly heard in the confines of the car.

Mary was experienced with interpreting Brandi speak and replied “My partner is coming.”

“Yeah, Marshall, remember him? Yeah, yeah, Marshal Marshall.” Preparing to end the call, Mary softly responded “Uh huh. You too.”

Suddenly loudly, Mary interrupted her farewell to add “Squish, squish –wait -- who’s handling the case? Who is the police officer, the detective you’ve been talking to?”

“Canon, Newark PD. Got it. “

“Hang in there, just a few hours. We’ll be there,” she repeated, nodding to her partner.

On the way to Sunport, Mary called the office and relayed the additional information gleaned from Brandi. She leaned her head against the seat back and closed her eyes.

Marshall’s hand reached for hers. Catching a glimpse, she moved her hand to his.  Mary sighed, turned to him with a sad smile and said “Thanks.”

 

** Newark Airport **

Mary had irritated Marshall and most of the other passengers the entire flight by tapping. She would have walked the entire way to New Jersey, but the stewardesses wouldn’t let her get up after she paced from the front bathroom to the back. After three trips, they ‘requested’ she sit down, and stay seated.

Marshall reviewed the file and tried to discuss it with Mary. He asked about her mother’s apartment, where her sister lived, where they worked, where her mother went. Mary answered by rote, but Marshall made careful notes in the file.

Go-bags in hand, Mary and Marshall got in line for a rental car. Mary scoffed at the need for a GPS but Marshall insisted. She acquiesced because tech toys took his mind off bigger problems – Mary’s problems. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet.

Mary took the keys from the agent and headed out. This was her old stomping grounds. Not exactly the way she wanted to share this place with Marshall, but it was what it was. Once in the car and out of the garage, Mary headed for Paramus and her sister. Holding on to the ‘oh shit’ bar, Marshall tried to find the right wording to get Mary to acknowledge the speed limit on NJ-17.

“Mare?”

“Hmm,” she grunted.

“Speed?”

“What?” she replied sharply.

“We aren’t on a case,” he reminded her. “Our badges won’t get you out of a speeding ticket.”

“Wanna bet?” she taunted with a sexy smile.

“A little cleavage, a smile and ‘gee officer I was going how fast?” Marshall recited in falsetto, mocking her.

Mary smiled, a tight small smile, but a smile nevertheless. He remembered. He had seen her use almost that exact scenario to get out of a ticket just last week.

He cleared his throat and harrumphed as if making an important announcement, “There will be no display of cleavage or other usually clothed body parts when your partner is in the passenger seat.”

Mary cut her eyes to the rear seat, and said “It’s available, you can move any time.” She did take her foot out of the gas tank.

“Marshall, Col. Fuentes – head of the state police -- is a bud. And he owes me.”

“Col. Fuentes?” Marshall retorted, intrigued. “You never mentioned him.” Every part of Mary, past, present and future intrigued him. The dreams had given him an unprecedented insight into her character, but didn’t contain a lot of details of her past. Details he was anxious to know.

“It was long ago,”Mary answered, looking straight ahead, not allowing the discussion to distract her from driving. After the sparse traffic of New Mexico, the congestion of Jersey required her to concentrate. “The Jersey State Police needed a help with a fugitive. I hunted fugitives. We, we . . . um. . .  . traded information.”

“As long as that’s all you exchanged,” he threatened with mock seriousness.

Mary cried out “Marshall!” Without glancing his way she smacked his bicep so hard he winced and rubbed it. “Fuentes is old enough to be my father,” her voice trailed off. Quietly she added  “It wasn’t like that.”

He sighed _. What’s past is past. Fuentes hadn’t appeared in his dreams of Mary._

“Jealous?” Mary taunted. There was no comparison between Marshall and Fuentes. While Col. Fuentes was in good shape for his age, Mary thought of him as an uncle. An uncle with useful connections.

“Yup,” he admitted.

“Aaaaaw,” Mary punched his arm again. “That’s sweet.”

“Ouch! and really?” he paused rubbing his arm. “I figured you might be mad. It’s not as if you belong to me.”

Mary slowed the car to speed limit maximum and hazarded a glance at him.

“But I do belong with you,” she stated with such certainty Marshall couldn’t understand how his heart stayed in his chest. “Our dreams proved it.”

“And I with you,”was Marshall’s heartfelt response.

“ A E I  O  U.” Mary teased.

He sang “And sometimes Y.”

“Numbnuts, with you I always wonder why.” _Why would this gentle, thoughtful, intelligent bad ass want anything to do with her? Why had they shared those dreams?_

Checking the GPS Marshall noted, “Next exit, Mare.” Checking lanes and mirrors Mary started moving to the right. As she changed lanes, she noticed a black SUV moving up next to her. Too close, too fast, too damn close.

Mary yelled, “Brace,” and swerved back into the lane.

“Plates,” said Marshall, turning around and aiming out the rear window. Instead of his glock he held his phone, snapping several pictures, hoping one was clear enough to read the license on the car that tried to sideswipe them.

Mary slowed the car and tried to get behind the SUV. It slowed too, but traffic was too heavy to allow the maneuver to work indefinitely. Mary worked her way to the exit lane, missing the intended off ramp.

The black SUV was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s ahead of us,” Marshall observed, scanning the vehicles around them.

“Who in the hell would be after us in Jersey?” Mary wondered, gripping the steering wheel tightly, eyes scanning the traffic, before lighting briefly on her partner.

“And why?” added Marshall. “Any old boyfriends holding a grudge? Any fugitives you captured on the loose here?”

“No fugitives. I would have been notified.” Mary replied. “You?”

“Nuh uh, no boyfriends” he replied playfully.

“There better not be,” Mary muttered.

“We’re not going to Brandi," Mary stated. “Find us a place.”  The blonde tossed her hair checking the traffic, watching for suspicious cars, especially black SUVs.

“There’s a Hampton Inn in Harrison.” Marshall said looking at his phone. Reaching over, he programmed the GPS.

Following the signs _(and the GPS, although she would never admit it)_ Mary pulled into the parking lot of the motel and stopped. Marshall was on his Blackberry, texting Eleanor.

Taking her hands off the wheel and pushing the seat back to stretch her legs, Mary scanned the area and let out a huge sigh, followed by a quiet “What mother humper wants to run us off the road? Who knows we’re here?”

Shaking off her worried speculation, she looked at Marshall. “Anything from Eleanor?”

Head down checking the screen, Marshall answered “Not yet.”

Closing her eyes, she sighed, “Have Stan call the Newark Marshal’s office. Maybe they can run the plates, give us a clue to what the hell just happened.”

“Stan?  Something seriously hinkey just happened on NJ-17” After explaining to Stan, he asked, “Can you connect me to the Newark marshals? Yeah, an introduction couldn’t  hurt.”

After a minute or so, Marshall’s phone clicked over and a deep baritone asked “Marshal Marshall Mann?”

“Yes, sir,” Marshall answered.

“Stanley tells me you have a few questions. This is Chief Inspector John Varney, Newark Annex.”

Marshall described the incident again, gave the Chief the license plate numbers and asked who might be trying to bag a couple of marshals. Their vehicle had been singled out, probably followed. Marshall racked his brain but couldn’t recall when he had first seen the black SUV.

“Did you use the service’s credit card?”

“No, my partner used her personal card.”

The silence on the other end lengthened. Anticipating the Newark Marshal’s query,  Marshall volunteered, “My partner, Inspector Mary Shannon and I are here because her mother is missing. Mary’s sister Brandi, reported it.”

Suddenly the voice on the phone got louder. “Mary is that you?” Hearing the tone of recognition in the New Jersey Chief’s voice, Marshall put the phone on speaker and held it for her.

“Yeah Chief, it’s me. You seen the BOLO on my mom?”

“Can’t say that I have.  Shoot me the particulars. You can reach me at 973-645-2405, any time, day or night.” For a tough as nails broad who claimed not to make friends, she certainly had some obliging acquaintances.  “Meanwhile, I strongly suggest you keep moving.”

“Thanks, we will.” Mary replied and nodded for Marshall to take the phone back.

After a few more questions for the Jersey Chief, Marshall ended the call. “No one targeting marshals. Seems it’s just you, Mare. You are sooo special,” Marshall teased.

“Not  in a short bus way,” he was quick to add.

He avoided another bicep slam because Mary was distracted. “We’re down to half a tank,” she observed.

“Should be a gas station a few miles down the road. Let’s fill up then check in.”

Mary’s stomach growled protesting the inadequate airplane food. “We should fill our tanks too,” suggested Marshall.

“This looks promising. Pop’s homemade pies and sandwiches,” said Marshall looking up from his phone. “Pie makes everything better.”

Still thinking, trying to make sense out of their recent SUV encounter, Mary nodded. She pulled into a gas station with pumps close to the building, and hanging tin signs advertising fresh baked bread creaking in the cold. _She shivered remembering the dream/nightmare where Marshall got shot. The old tin sign, the abandoned diner._

Marshall didn’t notice her discomfort, still staring at his Blackberry. “Pies are behind us. We should double back anyway. Should I ask Eleanor to call your sister?”

Wrenching herself out of the memory of that awful dream, Mary played back Marshall’s last sentence and replied, “Yeah, have her tell Brandi she needs to lead a Spartan life, and get out of the house ASAP. If she doesn’t seem to understand, tell Eleanor to say Pikachu.”

“Gesundhiet,” Marshall replied.

Mary grumbled quiety, “She’d better remember.”

“Your life in Jersey required secret passwords?” Marshall asked. He had learned a lot about Mary from their dreams, but they hadn’t talked about her life in New Jersey.

Stopping the car by the pump, Mary turned off the engine and tossed the keys to Marshall. “It’s a long story. I gotta pee.”

With the car fully fueled and bladders and stomachs empty, they switched drivers, and headed for pie.

“We should change cars,” Mary told Marshall, his hands on the wheel, but his eyes scanning.

“We’ll find a rental place.” Marshall directed concentrating on the traffic, scanning for cars whose route matched theirs.

Checking her Blackberry, Mary replied, “Nothin’.” “But there’s a Motel 6 in Kearney and it has a car rental within walking distance. We can stay there and make the switch in the morning.”

“You’re gonna lose your deposit,” Marshall sing songed. “Call Varney when we switch and have the marshals pick this one up.”

Looking up from her phone, she checked the traffic and her partner. “I need to call Brandi.”

Marshall kept his eyes on the road, but listened to his partner’s conversation with her traumatized sister. “Squish,” she paused. “Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?” Mary sighed and the crenellations on her brow relaxed. “Stay there. Don’t call anyone. Hear me? No one. Stay out of sight.”

“You should be scared. You have every reason to be scared. Just stay with Principal Stueber.”

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, put her on.”

“Joanna? Sorry to drop Brandi on you.” Mary paused, “Yeah it’s. . .  it’s complicated, but it’s best if she’s with you.”

“Thanks. I knew you would. Please, please, make sure Brandi stays put. Don’t tell anyone she’s with you –not even Mark.  And don’t let her call anyone. **ANY one** ,” She emphasized. Take her phone if you have to. Make sure she stays in the house, out of sight.”

“Brandi can fill you in. I’ll see you in the morning.”

After Mary hung up, Marshall inquired, “Brandi made it to the ‘the Spartan lifestyle?”

“Yeah,” Mary sighed. “Mrs. Stueber was principal at Paramus High when Brandi and I went there. The Spartans are the high school’s mascot.”

“You’re friends with the principal of your old high school? Did you spend a lot of time in the principal’s office?” Marshall inquired.  He could see his brash blonde friend using her fists and feet to right some wrong, to defend herself, or her sister.“Seems an unlikely friendship.”

“Kind of like you and me Marshall,” she commented quietly.

“We are stopping for dinner, a real sit down meal.” Marshall commanded. He was running on fumes and he knew his partner wasn’t doing much better. The adrenaline crash, when it came, wouldn’t be pretty.

Marshall’s eyebrow rose when she didn’t complain. Hearing no response, Marshall kept his hands on the wheel and spared a glance at the woman in the passenger seat.

Sensing his gaze, Mary looked up from her clasped hands and grunted “Hmm?”

“Dinner, Mare. Food. It’s been 6 hours since we ate, and airline food hardly counts.”

Realizing how much it takes to keep Marshall fueled, Mary felt bad for starving him. Contrite, she acquiesced “Sure. Someplace we can sit and relax, well, at least sit.”

“Whatever looks good to you,” she added, lightly patting his arm.

Marshall dove for the curb outside a burger and pie place Mary hadn’t even noticed.

“You had your eye on that place all along, didn’t you Doofus?” she accused. Marshall smirked “Why would you think that?” He wanted to take her mind off their reason for being there, if only for a few minutes.

Marshall parked a half block down and the couple stretched their legs. Mary’s thoughts circled around the conundrum of Jinx’s disappearance or kidnapping. Marshall considered only Mary. He knew she was turning the situation over in her mind. Trying to see it, understand it from angle after angle. Looking for an answer. Looking for a place to start looking. He was glad she acknowledged her hunger. He knew it was difficult to persuade her to take care of her own needs. Her mind only had room for one problem. She would go till she dropped, never realizing how long it had been since she had eaten, or rested.

Dinner was passable. The pie was good. Mary even had to admit that she did feel better. Mary was wiping the last of the burger grease from her mouth with a thin paper napkin, while Marshall devoured most of her slice of pie. His own had been inhaled. They sat in a booth facing the door’s glass window. The window next to their booth showed what was happening in the street outside. Suddenly Marshall saw Mary’s head jerk up. She dropped the napkin, slid out of the booth and was out the door before Marshall could react.

Craning his neck, trying to follow Mary, to see what had triggered her, Marshall took a few seconds to drop some bills to cover their meal, and followed. The bell on the door tinkled merrily, but he was certain nothing happy was coming.

Marshall spotted her running in the street heading toward a black SUV. “Mare, no” he shouted. She ran on undeterred. The SUV’s hood jumped up as the driver stepped on the gas and aimed for her. “Noooo,” Marshall wailed. Ducking down to get a bead on the driver of the black car, Marshall drew his gun then heard a thump. He popped up, sighted his Glock to the SUV, but didn’t shoot. Mary was down, her body rolling toward the curb.

Holstering his gun, he was a few steps away when he heard the thunk of her head hitting the cement curb. She came to a stop lying on her side in the leaf and dirt filled gutter. Marshall skittered to her side. Moving his hand from the bruise on her face to her carotid artery, he let out a sigh of relief at the strong pulse.

 


	3. Bed Bugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let the bed bugs bite.

 

Mare,” he bleated. “Mary. C’mon, open your eyes. Yell at me for hovering, for anything,” his tone pleading.  “I’ll start quoting stats from the 1932 world series,” he threatened.

Mary blinked, once, twice. Finally focusing on the handsome hawk faced man. “Marshall?” she voice was reedy and weak. “What the hell?”

“You got hit by a truck,” Marshall said tenderly.

“Well that is certainly what it feels like,” Mary groaned and tried to sit up.

“Mare, let me check before you start moving around.” Marshall peeled open her jacket. The winter weight jacket had provided some protection. His anxiety receded a little when there was no blood.

“You are going to have a hell of a bruise, Sunshine,” he pressed on her shoulders, slid his hands gingerly around her ribs and pushed gently on her hips. “Everything seems connected still. You ready to try getting up?:”

“I was ready before you started feeling me up,” she groused. Mary was shaking her head, trying to clear it.  She lifted herself up on one elbow. Marshall grabbed her arm and helped her stand, watching carefully memorizing every time she winced or whimpered. As soon as they were someplace private, he would examine those areas.

Mary shook him off and took a couple of steps. Since she was standing and walking on her own, albeit slowly, he let her go. Following close enough to catch her if needed.

“C’mon, lets get out of here before they come back and try again,” Marshall trotted ahead to their vehicle. He wanted to rail at her for making herself a target, for putting herself in harms way, for being stupid with the life of the women he loved. But that wasn’t what she needed.

“Where are you going?” she asked as the car took off, tires spinning on the ice.

“Someplace where I can assess your damages. And you can get a hot shower.” After rolling in the leaves and street dirt, she did want a shower. _How does he do that?_ Not for the first time she wondered just how much about her was revealed in their dreams. Maybe he just paid close attention. Leave it to Doofus to focus on the details and remember them.

Despite his tire squealing take off, Mary saw they were only going around the block. Almost behind the burger and pie place was a small ‘no tell’ motel. One story of drab colored stucco with dusty windows, few rooms and parking right in front. Seems this was Marshall’s desired stop.

Marshall pulled into an empty space, noted the room number in front of them and caught Mary’s eye. “Stay,” he admonished. “Don’t move.”

“I’m not a dog, numnutz,” she complained, but didn’t try to exit the car. She winced as she turned to scan around the vehicle, grateful that Marshall didn’t see.

The fact that he was back in no time meant she had dozed off. He had their bags on one shoulder and was reaching into the vehicle to help her out. Normally she would have berated him for this gentlemanly assist. It made her feel weak.  This time, she allowed it, and Marshall’s alarm raised a notch.

The door to the room opened and Marshall’s desire to help her lessened, allowing her to walk in on her own.

Stopping at the edge of the single king size bed, Mary turned and looked at the small room, the dingy carpet and dim bedside lamp.

“Geez Marshall, is this a palace or what?” she mocked.

“And you’re a princess. Strip,” Marshall ordered.

“Strip? What the hell? Is what it takes to get your motor revved? Getting hit by a truck is your idea of foreplay?” Her attempt to tease came out thin and croaky. Wearily she added “Doofus, this is so not the time.”

“Mare, get your clothes off and get in the shower. You’ll feel better.” He had her shower stuff in his hand. “ _When had he gotten her stuff out of her bag?  “_ Give me your clothes.”

“Grabby much, horndog? You wanna help?” she was trying for lascivious, but she just sounded tired. “You got a clothes fetish now?” She wanted a shower more than anything. She couldn’t wait to wash the dirt from the gutter, the dried ‘stuff’ out of her hair. She knew a hot shower would coax the adrenaline of the near misses down to a normal level, and sooth the jitters from constant alertness.

“I hate it when someone tries to kill me,” she complained.

“That’s why I only let them try on alternate Wednesdays,” Marshall cajoled. “Clothes Mare,” he reminded her.

She’d started to take her jacket off, but winced when it pulled her shoulder. Marshall reached over to ease her arms out of the sleeves, then started unbuttoning her blouse.

“We know the’re tracking us. The device has got to be on you. I checked everything else -- the car, our bags, my boots, yours, my clothes, there’s nowhere else to look.”

“Have you checked our bags?” Mary asked, as she reached for her boots. Marshall gently pushed her to sit on the bed and pulled them off, one by one.

“Yes, I believe I already mentioned that.” Marshall replied quietly while pinching the bridge of his nose. No reason to rile her up. He realized her oversight, and the fact she let him help meant she was rattled as well as bruised.

Marshall was feeling the hems and seams and lining of Mary’s jacket, her boots next for inspection. As she reached for the towel, Marshall had retrieved from the tiny bathroom Mary caught Marshall looking at her. It made her heart ache and belly flip in ways it never had before. _Cosmic hotline? Maybe there is something to it._

Quickly wrapping the inadequate bath towel around her, Mary started toward the bathroom.

With less skin exposed for his study, Marshall, returned to the here and now and said, “Wait.”

“I need to examine you. Check if anything’s broken, see what bruises you managed to accumulate. Turn around.”

Mary dropped the towel and slowly pirouetted in front of him. She felt Marshall’s gaze on her backside, on her breasts, her ribs, ankles, and arms. She had been naked in front of a man before, but this was Marshall. He knew her body. She felt shy and nervous as he studied her. She stopped with her back to him.

Quietly, he approached her, put his hands on her shoulders and whispered, “I’m going to touch you Mare. I’m sure you’ll let me know if it hurts.” She couldn’t see his worried grimace. He hated the thought of causing her pain and worked to keep his touch warm and soft.

Kissing the top of her head, he closed his hands around her skull. His fingers grazed the sides and he stopped when she groaned. Lifting her hair he said “Bruise, no bleeding. I’ll get some ice for that.”  _“Internal hemorrhaging is the bigger worry.”_

His fingers sloped around her jaw down to her neck and collarbone. Flexing her shoulders, arms and wrists, he noted fewer bruises than he had imagined. He sighed with relief. Mary was good at hiding her hurts. She’d been putting up a brave front her entire life. Naked was the only way he could tell where she was injured and how badly. Fortunately, today she seemed willing to let him.

Continuing his examination he noted that her torso looked clear although there was a red area on her ribs on the right side. _“Impact from the truck,”_ he thought.

Moving in front of her he pressed lightly on her ribs, watching her face for discomfort. The right side brought a wince, but no outcry. “Probably not broken,” he murmured aloud. He’d feel better if she would go to a hospital, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Sliding down to her waist, compressing the padding of her hips, he reached to caress and compress the cheeks of her ass. Mary leaned into him and Marshall was relieved to feel her relax in his arms.

Squatting he ran both hands down each leg from thigh to ankle. Finally he asked her to lift and rotate her feet, checking her ankles and the bottom of her feet. Mary had never had anyone take such care with her body. She was amazed, surprised and a bit embarrassed.

“Looks like you got lucky, Sunshine.” Actually he had gotten lucky. Any hurt to her pierced him twice as deeply. Languorous from his careful pat down, Mary put her arms around his neck and pulled him into a soft kiss. A kiss that brought the roughness of his clothes against her naked skin.

Pulling back, Marshall looked into her eyes, and kissed first the right then the left eyelid followed by her nose. As he worked his way down to her chin, he stopped.

“Now, go take your shower,” he urged, lightly patting her ass.

“Yes, sir, Marshall, sir,” she drew back, saluted and headed to the bathroom, trailing the towel behind her saucily. Dazed by her salute, and the sight of her retreating form, Marshall shook himself like a wet dog., resetting his attention, focusing on the task. He sat on the end of the bed and picked up her clothes one by one, checking again for the tracking device he knew had to be there. These guys weren’t psychic. They had to have help.

The water from the shower stopped, and Mary emerged wrapped in a towel, with another one around her head. She had used all the towels, so there were no dry ones for his shower. Didn’t matter to Marshall.

He was delighted to watch her stroll out of the bathroom. Even with the towel, she was an enjoyable sight. His gaze narrowed to her neck and the necklace she wore. “Mare? Do you ever take this off?” He stood in front of her and fingered the miraculous medal hanging between her breasts, distracting him in the very best way.

Mary was giving his question serious though. Her pensive look spoke to her focus as she searched her memory.”Umm, “ she finally replied. “I took it off last week when we went to that fancy restaurant. I wore the necklace you got me, remember?”

Marshall rolled his eyes, remembering how she had looked that night, then recalling the many vulnerable spots of her quaint little apartment. “God Mare, a boy scout with a butter knife could break into your place.”

“And that’s why,” she drawled, running her hands up to his shoulders, “I usually stay at your place.” She reached behind her for the clasp and removed the medal and held it out for his inspection.

Her closeness and stretches of naked skin proved too much of a distraction. Gathering his investigative wits Marshall, backed away to look at the medal.

Placing it  on her open palm, he gestured for her to wait. He dug through his go bag and unzipped a small black fabric bag. By his triumphant smile, Mary knew something had at last gone right. He fitted a head band with a light and flip down magnifying lens on his head muttering, “Knew this would come in handy.”

The headband played havoc with his hair, but Mary wasn’t going to point it out. She enjoyed seeing him with less than perfect hair. She wondered how he managed to pack so many toys into his duffel. It seemed to be some sort of magic bag, holding more that the exterior would indicate.

“Mare, put it down on the nightstand.” Marshall sat on the bed close to the nightstand. He zeroed in on the medal, carefully examining first one side then the other.

Handing it back to her, he asked, “Does this feel different?”

“What do you mean?” Mary wondered. She realized Marshall was looking for something tiny. Picking up the medal she held it between her thumb and forefinger as she often did while deep in thought. Closing her eyes, Mary rubbed it and said “Uh, yeah, it feels – thicker? Rougher, maybe.”

Marshall acknowledged with a quiet “uh huh.”

“This has got to be it, Mare.” Looking over his shoulder Mary couldn’t see any anomalies, but she trusted that Marshall did.

“Gimme, Marshall.” She grabbed for the medal turning toward the bathroom. He was surprised that she was eager to get rid of it and had his finger holding the medal to the desktop. This was just about the only thing she had from her father, but she was ready to let it go if it meant their safety, his safety.

“No.” He picked up the medal. “We can use this.”

Straightening up and stepping away from the nightstand, Mary tilted her head and gauged her partner’s state of mind, retucking her towel to help him concentrate. “You gotta plan, partner?” she whispered, not wanting to break his concentration. Marshall’s plans were complex, convoluted with contingencies for contingencies. If there was a way to get these killers off their tail, using that medal, Marshall would do it.

“Get dressed Mare.” Marshall urged. “We’re getting out of here,” he said as he dropped the medal into the vase of silk flowers that passed for a decorator touch.

They left the motel quickly, checking the area carefully before getting in the car.


	4. Motel Musings

Marshall found another cheap motel, not far from the first. They figured their pursuers would go to the first motel, following the tracking device on the medal. They both knew a night attack would be the easiest to pull off, but they were too tired to lie in wait. At least Marshall was. He got Mary to lie down, and soon they both appeared to be asleep.

Dead tired from their harrowing day, Marshall had passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.  Despite his need for rest, Marshall slept lightly while on duty. This time, his duty was protecting his partner. He stirred after an hour or so. Something had changed. His body sensed the absence of Mary’s body heat, even before he was awake.

The room was dark. Light from the street lamp leaked through the cheap drapes that didn’t quite meet in the center. He spotted her blonde hair, shining in a spear of moonlight. Seeing Mary, boots in hand, almost invisible in her black leather jacket and dark jeans, ready to leave him, made his heart hammer.

“Mary,” he exclaimed in a loud whisper, “where are you going?” He didn’t want to startle her. She was capable of creating a scene the other ‘guests’ would remember. And, she was armed. He had to get her to stop, to get her to think.

Caught in mid sneak, Mary refused to face him, her body still angled toward the door. That gave him hope because she had stopped. She hadn’t scrambled through the door--yet.

Since the mountain wasn’t coming to Marshall, he levered himself to sit on the edge of the bed and reached up to clasp her elbow. “Tell me what you need,” he whispered, turning her face to his.

That familiar selfless phrase broke her. Mary sobbed and turned toward him. She stood tall, breathed deeply and contemplated how to tell him, what to tell him. He rose and stood next to her, still holding her arm. He wanted to wait for her to speak, but couldn’t help asking, “Are you going to leave your partner?”

She sighed deeply, remembering just how well this man knew her. “Yeah,” she admitted. Maybe if she was honest she could make him understand why she needed to go. For once in her life she wasn’t running from someone.

“Why?”  He moved his hands to lightly clasp her shoulders, not to restrain her, but to hold her attention.

“They want **me**. The tracking device was on **me**. They are following **me**. I can move faster alone, get to the bottom of this quicker.” She spoke quickly, determined to convince him, to convince herself. “If I’m at the motel when they arrive, I can ambush them, sabotage their car, get the bastards,” she said letting her anger take hold.

“Mare, no,” he pleaded. “We’re partners. We do things together, we do this together.” He led her to the bed. “Sit down,” Marshall requested. “Let’s run through this, do a threat assessment. What do we know?” She didn’t signal that she agreed, but she didn’t bolt. He took that as a good sign. “What facts do we know?”

She sat.

Turning her face up to his she released her fear and anger with a hiss “We know there are some mother humpin cretins who have Jinx and are trying to kill me to keep me from finding her.” _Cretins? Who says cretins?_

This was a leap, but it fit the few facts they had. Marshall was amazed and frightened by her quick unthinking call to action when it came to protecting her family or her witnesses, or him.

Mary had saved the day, saved his bacon several times in their brief partnership. Stunts he would never consider—like initiating phone sex to get the location of a perp—she pulled off successfully. Marshall figured that Saint Inauspicious patron of the foolhardy protected her. Anyone else trying the moves she made would end up dead. Focusing on their current situation he added, “But we don’t know who did it, who is pursuing you. . . .us,” he amended. “We don’t know how many goons they have, or what kind of firepower or god help us, explosives they could use. They don’t care who goes down with you. That kind of willingness to incur casualties doesn’t speak well for your chances of coming back alive.“

Turning her face toward his he promised, “I can’t, I won’t,” he emphasized, “let your life be put in jeopardy.”

“Marshall, our lives are in jeopardy every day. It’s the job.,” she insisted. “It’s my choice,” she added stubbornly.

Bending down to look in her eyes, to make her focus, he said, “Yes, our jobs can be dangerous, but this isn’t the job. This is personal, and you have to keep your perspective so we can figure the best way out of this for your mother, for us.”

“Right?” he asked, pleading for her to agree. He had to make her understand that action without information would kill her, and that would be the end of him.

“Right,” she mumbled, head down, hiding behind her hair. Mary didn’t usually allow her choices to be overruled, but she recognized that she was reacting, not thinking. She didn’t have a plan, and she knew that without a plan, she could end up dead. Marshall wasn’t there just to back her up, he was here to proactively help _. This could take some getting used to. But I like it._

“Why would anyone kidnap Jinx?” he wondered.

“To get to me. To bring me here,” she theorized. “The **fact** ,” she paused to emphasize the word, “that they put that tracker on my medal proves it.”

“Everything’s always about you?” Marshall teased, although in this case, it seemed to be.

“Facts,” she spit back. “You want facts.” The tracking device means they planned this. They planned to get me here even before Jinx was taken.” She worried, “They could use Brandi too.”

“Who would do that? Who would want you in Jersey?” Marshall asked. This made Mary pause. She’d been so focused on the hit squad she hadn’t thought of the broader picture. Who would want her in New Jersey bad enough to come up with this complicated plot?

“Daddy,” she said between gritted teeth, “my no good SOB bank robbing fugitive of a father.”

Marshall realized the depth of Mary’s feelings about her father. But this didn’t make any sense.“He left you years ago. Why would he go through all these hoops to get you to Jersey when you were in Jersey for years?” Marshall’s logic derailed her current train of thought.

“Okay, maybe not him.” Mary put her elbows on her knees, hands supporting her head. Marshall was glad to see her so nimble after her yesterday. He knew she was turning the question over in her mind, looking for answers.

“Who have you pissed off lately?” he asked.

She snorted. “Who haven’t I pissed off?”

“Bad enough to go through all these steps just to get you here? And why here? Why not just go to Albuquerque? They know where you live. ” Marshall didn’t want to acknowledge that they could have just taken Mary in Albuquerque. There were brief periods of time when he wasn’t with her, couldn’t protect her. If there were enough goons, she didn’t stand a chance.

“Yeah, that doesn’t fit either,” she sighed.

Hoping, knowing he wouldn’t rat her out, she confessed, “I’ve gotten letters from him, my dad, from time to time.” Marshall saw her seven year old self, miserable and questioning. “He seems to know where I am and where to write me. If he knew I was in Albuquerque he would contact me there. He’s never tried to meet me, so he doesn’t need me to be in any particular place.

“So,” Marshall continued, “he wouldn’t take Jinx to lure you back to Jersey.”

_Not after he left so he didn’t have to deal with Jinx_. She nodded. “And he wouldn’t try to hurt you,” Marshall added.

“No,” she nodded again. “He wouldn’t physically hurt me.”Her delivery was flat, as if the thought had never occurred to her before. Marshall would never plumb the depths of Mary’s emotional damage – damage caused by her own father. He longed to salve her wounds, sooth the savage beast she could be.

“If it’s not your dad, who would want you in Jersey bad enough to take Jinx?” Marshall and Mary thought about that for a while. Mary knew Jersey, knew the criminal element there. She hadn’t been gone so long that all the players had changed.

“I don’t know,” she confessed, shaking her head wearily. “I can’t think. Brain’s asleep even if I’m not.”

“I have to agree, judging by the fact that you were about to go solo on an unspecified number of unsubs.”

Despite her need for rest, Marshall had a question he needed answered. “Just one thing,” Marshall pressed. “Tell me what you’re thinking, why you wanted to leave?”

Anger and frustration fueled her weary reply. “I want to get those sons of bitches who tried to kill me. If I’m at the motel when they arrive I can shoot them. I can keep them from shooting you,” she spat the words at him. “I’m thinking they’ll kill you,” she mumbled. “You’ll get shot, just like in that dream. You’ll bleed out in some abandoned storefront.”

Marshall put his arm around her shoulder, wondering if he was imagining the tremors he felt. “I know that is upsetting. But Mary, nothing from those dreams has happened to either of us since we’ve been partnered. Why would it start now?”

Head down, she shrugged into his chest. Marshall waited, and waited. Finally she cleared her throat. “I just can’t shake that awful sadness, the fear from that . . .that  dream, scene, or whatever the hell it is. Every time I think of it, every time I see it, I . . . I’m frozen. I can’t move. That’s not me,” she stated emphatically. “I shoot, I act, I do. I can’t stand by while you die.”

Marshall could hardly imagine Mary motionless. Even sitting at her desk, she seemed to be in a whirlwind of motion, flicking her hair, smacking the monitor, slapping files into their folders. Mary was never still. Tonight, in her brief sleep interlude, she had managed to smack him. Nope, Mary didn’t freeze. That she thought she had done so in the dream and would do so in real life was enough to scare her, and him.

Marshall put his arms around her. “I know, I know.” He ducked his head to look into her eyes that glistened with moisture.  “I get the same feeling every time I think about seeing you in a hospital corridor, on a gurney, gut shot and not breathing.” His heart had fallen down through his boots at the memory. “But it hasn’t happened Mare. Stay with me and I will do everything to see that it never happens,” he promised fervently. “If you want to make sure I don’t get shot, you have to stay with me.”

She turned her tear filled eyes to his and asked “Really?” _Was it was just a ploy to get her to stay? She had to admit, it was a pretty good one._

Hoping the crisis had passed Marshall said as convincingly, “I believe so.” She put her arms around his waist and turned her head to hear his heart.

“Trust me?” he asked. Mute, overcome, Mary nodded into his chest.

“Let’s get some rest while we can.” He stood up, taking her with him. Hands hanging at her side, Mary leaned into him, resting her head below his shoulder. His size always surprised her. He was so gentle; she almost forgot what a big man he is. Lean, but tall, and beneath that t-shirt she could see the definition of his pectorals. _Marshall must work out – a lot._

Dragging her baffled brain back from her partner’s musculature, Mary whispered, “Okay.” Her throat clogged with unshed tears. Mary felt his hands on her waistband.

“Whatchadoin Purvis?” she asked looking at his fingers unsnapping the button on her jeans.

“Just getting you comfortable, so you can rest,” he murmured, as if trying to keep himself half asleep, and make her sleepy too. He slowly skimmed her jeans down her thighs, lightly caressing her skin as he went.

Mary cocked her eyebrow and snarked, “Comfortable? So that’s what you’re doing? Seems more like you’re trying to start something, Mann.”

Marshall looked in her eyes. He had a silly grin on his moonlit face. “Good to know.” He filed away that Mary tidbit for a later time.

Mary put a hand on his shoulder and stepped out of her jeans. Her boots lay on the floor where she had dropped them. He took her hand, and tugged her toward the king sized bed they had been sharing. He lightly pushed on her shoulder, and she sat. Marshall pulled her against him then pulled them both down to the lumpy mattress. He grabbed the funky quilted bed cover and pulled it over them.

Mary settled, a few inches away from him. He wanted to hold her, but knew now was not a good time. He felt her hand at her side, between them. He folded his own hand over hers. She turned her hand to clasp his and gave it a brief squeeze. Marshall released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. It was all right. They were going to be all right.


	5. Meet the Spartans

“Mare, Mare….c’mon Sunshine, time to rise and shine.”  Marshall leaned over his partner asleep on her stomach. She had flung her arm out and clocked him on the back of the head. Not his favorite way to wake up, but in the grander scheme of things, acceptable. Since he was awake, he got ready to move out, letting his bruised partner catch a few more Zs. When she groaned, he moved back quickly. He didn’t need a bloody nose to go with the tender spot on his head.

“I may rise, but I refuse to shine. There better be coffee,” she threatened. He knew how caffeine dependant she was, but their current temporary abode held no niceties.

“There will be coffee, but we have to get out of here first, and in order to do that . . . .” he reasoned. The day was winter bright with the crispness that promised snow. He opened the drapes, and the sun made her blonde hair glow. Marshall smirked as he saw the halo of her hair. She’s no angel, unless angels were proficient at profanity, kicking ass, and drove like Mario Andretti.

Mary rolled over to get out of the light. When she opened her eyes, Marshall could tell the reason for their trip, her missing mom, the attempts on her life registered. “Go, go get dressed,” Marshall shooed her toward the bathroom. “You’re bag is already in there. The sooner you get dressed, the sooner you get coffee,” he sing songed. With another groan followed by a sleepy grumble about her need for caffeine , Mary complied.

After a brief call to the Jersey marshal’s office, they left for the rental car agency. Marshall was certain that the fact that rental car place had coffee significantly lowered the chance his partner would injure him. The coffee wasn’t up to Marshall’s standards, but it reduced his partner from unpredictable to irritated. Mary’s anxiety racheted up for every hour Jinx was missing. She swore she would never be a nervous nelly, so she worried by assaulting the closest target, verbally or physically. Marshall understood, and tried to stay out of range.

Once back on the highway, Marshall cautioned, “Mare, I can’t see suspicious vehicles at this speed.” His head swiveled in the passenger seat, looking for that one car that was looking for them. “See I told you stuffing your head with trivia was bad. You can’t turn it fast enough!”she crowed.  The rental didn’t look like law enforcement, but that was the only thing Mary liked about it.

“Uh Mare?”

“What?” she kept her eyes on the road, turning left, then right, then onto a freeway, the off at the next off ramp. Her driving seemed as confused as she was. Last night, the way Marshall had convinced her to stay. What was that? She didn’t remember dreaming last night. She was grateful not to relive Marshall getting shot. She did remember feeling comfortable, safe next to him.

“If you are intending to do around the world in 80 days, this is a hell of a head start,” he tried to keep his tone curious, not critical. “You’ve gone north, east, and west in the last hour. We’re not being followed,” he assured her.

“You were right about the tracking device, Doofus, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t goons tracking us. These asshats are smart enough to watch rental agencies. I’m not putting my sister in danger too. We’re ditching this car.”

“What did you have in mind?” She was changing lanes, speeding up, slowing down to make it easy to spot anyone following them. Marshall was willing to defer to her knowledge of the area, and the roads, but he needed to know what came next.

Checking lanes on either side, Mary said, “There’s a used car lot near Harrison that has some ‘special’ cars,” she turned and grinned at him. It wasn’t exactly a friendly grin. More of a cat that just ate the canary smile, a crocodile smile, predatory. Whatever she had in mind would involve some brand of Mary induced coercion, pain or both. Marshall was sure he wasn’t the target, but not knowing who was made him nervous.

“Uh huh, special cars. And the owner of this lot is a friend?” his eyebrows rising. What besides bulletproof body and windows would make a car ‘special’ to Mary.

“Not exactly,” she dragged out the last word. “Something better” she declared. “A dirtbag piece of scum who owes me.”

“Do I want to know why this person owes you? Or would that make me an accessory after the fact?” Marshall wondered aloud, not expecting an answer. And he didn’t get one. Someday he hoped Mary would be ready to share what he didn’t already know about her. Like how the daughter of a federal fugitive became a U.S. Marshal? There had to be a story there. This was just one of many questions he had about his brash blonde partner.

Avoiding highways and as many major streets as possible, they crabbed their way to the used car lot, where Larry, the owner was eager but not glad to give Mary a deal on an innocent looking sedan. When Marshall opened the hood, he wasn’t surprised by the custom fuel injectors and racing car parts. No bullet proof glass but it would do. Marshall was happy to buckle up in their stealth dragster.

The winter afternoon was quickly darkening to evening when they made it to Principal Stuber’s house. No black SUVs in sight. Mary slowed and parked down street from the two story brick house that was their destination. It had pots of evergreens atop the brick balustrade framing the steps to the white front door.

Mary had called earlier. They could see a face in the door’s diamond paned windows. It swung open as they approached and Mary rushed in. Marshall checked the street then followed and closed the door. Once inside he saw his partner being hugged by an older woman with dark brown hair muttering “Mary.”

Marshall studied the woman. Who was she that Mary was willing to trust her with Brandi’s safety? It saddened him to think of the hurts Mary had suffered, the sacrifices she made to keep her dysfunctional family going. Mary endured the hug, and didn’t push away.

The woman saw Marshall and pulled back, giving him the once over. Mary slipped out of the hug, caught his arm, pulling him closer. “Principal Stuber, this is my partner, Marshall.”

“Joanna, please. We’re all grownups here. Besides, I’m no longer a high school principal.” Mary ducked her head in embarrassment.

“So, this is your ‘partner,’ hmmm?” she kidded. “Is that what you’re calling it these days.?”

Marshall’s cheeks turned that slight shade of pink that Mary found amusing, and adorable. _Adorkable_ , _she corrected_. “No, Joanna. That’s what law enforcement agencies call it.” She wasn’t ready to reveal their relationship yet.

“Law enforcement,” repeated Joanna. “You did it!” she practically squeaked. “Good for you,” the older woman beamed. Turning to Marshall she explained,  “The guidance counselor at school told Mary she could never do it. I think that’s what inspired her – she had to prove him wrong.” Turning back to Mary, she took both her hands. “And you did. I’m proud of you, Mary.”

Mary could only take so much adulation. To avoid another hug, she looked behind Joanna to the back of the house, and asked “Where’s Brandi?” She wanted to see her sister and figure out what was going on. Brandi had to have heard or seen something.

“Back bedroom, as you instructed,” Joanna replied. Joanna knocked on the door to the back bedroom and called softly, “Brandi, Mary’s here.”

The white panel door burst open as Brandi launched herself into Mary’s arms. Waterworks streamed from eyes already bloodshot. Marshall knew this was just the latest round of tears. As Brandi subsided to hiccups, Mary led her back into the room.

Mary sat on the bed and motioned Brandi to join her. Marshall stood in the doorway, standing guard even inside this supposedly safe house. Mary took a good look at the slight blonde and hugged her close, letting Brandi wind down. Finally, Brandi loosened her grip, “I’m so glad you’re here. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Tell me everything Squish, everything you remember, everything that happened the day, the week before Mom disappeared.” Marshall took out a small spiral tablet, to take notes. Under Mary’s careful questioning, Brandi recounted what she could remember of the time before Jinx disappeared. When they were done, Brandi leaned against her sister, breathing in the comfort and safety Mary had brought since they were little.

Emerging from the bedroom, Joanna offered, “Stay for dinner. I made pot roast. There’s plenty.” Mary looked at Marshall, who muttered quietly “I’ll do a perimeter check. We can stay for a while.”

Mary nodded to Joanna, “I still remember your pork chops, Joanna. We haven’t had a home cooked meal since the last time Doofus,” she nodded her head toward Marshall, “made some French chicken thing I can’t pronounce.”

“Chicken Cordon Bleu, Mare” Marshall interjected. “It’s not that exotic.”

Joanna looked at him with new respect.

“What a catch, Mary, a man who cooks, seriously cooks!” Brandi exclaimed.

Mary looked at Joanna. “Maybe you could give him your pork chop recipe” Mary’s request was hopeful. Joanna smiled, and Marshall shrugged. Brandi sat quietly, worn out. The smell of the home cooked meal made Marshall and Mary realize how long it had been since they ate. Mary tucked in with enthusiasm and Marshall needed no encouragement to follow her lead. Soon the food was a memory. “Give me a hand in the kitchen Mary.” She volunteered Marshall to help but Joanna was having none of it. Realizing how much she owed the woman for her impromptu harboring of Brandi, Mary followed.

“Hi Brandi” Marshall. “It’s nice to meet Mary’s sister, even if the circumstances. . .”he trailed off.

“Yeah, it sucks,”. Brandi replied. She wondered why he was willing to be part of the latest Shannon family drama. She cocked her head and looked at him. “You’re different,” she announced.

“How so?”

“You’re not her type. Mary’s guys are usually hunky guys, y’know, with muscles.”

More amused than offended Marshall asked, “How do you know I don’t have muscles?” The slight blonde shrugged in reply and said “ I don’t see any.”

“I’m not exactly dressed for the gym. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there,” Marshall rebutted. “I’m her partner, not her boyfriend.” Brandi spit out at that and said “Uh huh, and you’re here with her because . . . . .”

Anxious to get the attention off him, and glean some information about Mary he asked, “How many of Mary former boyfriends have you met?”

Brandi snorted, “Enough. And I know Mark.” At Marshall’s questioning look she added “Mark Stuber, Joanna’s son.”

“So, he and Mary dated?”

“Dated?” she giggled. “They were married.”


	6. Mary'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marshall meets Brandi and learns something new about Mary.

Jinxed Redux

Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N at the end

 

Chapter 6: Mary’d

_Mary?_

_Married?_

_Mary married?_

 

The words bounced around his brain like a shiny metal pinball, being launched again and again by the mental flippers of his imagination. _His Mary was married?_

 

Marshall and Brandi were still sitting at the table. Joanna and Mary had cleared the dishes. Brandi slowly rotated her wineglass, swirling the dark red liquid, and stared Marshall. She no longer registered in Marshall’s universe.

 

_Mary married? Why? When?_

_At least I know who_.

 

Like probing a sore tooth, his thoughts went again and again to the just revealed fact of his partner’s life before they met. _Why hadn’t she told him?_ They had been together for a two months now – partners and more. Mary could have told him. _But she_ _didn’t_.

 

Marshall inventoried the dreams they had shared. No mention of marriage or spouse. Why not _tell me?_ Marriage is a pretty big deal. Or didn’t she think so? What could their future hold? He wanted to be married, dreamed of a wife, a family – with Mary. Only Mary. Did Mary share THAT dream?

 

Through heavy lidded eyes Brandi watched Marshall. She tried to pinpoint when Marshall had checked out. One minute they were getting to know one another, and the next he was just . . . just not there. Brandi put her hands on her head and groaned. Too hard to think with too little food and too much alcohol, and Jinx missing.

 

Mary and Joanna made quick work of the dinner dishes. The running water and Joanna’s chatter masked Marshall and Brandi’s conversation. Mary noticed his unfocused gaze but figured that Marshall was full.  _Sated_. _Who in the hell says sated?_

 

“Joanna? That was the best meal I’ve eaten, the only home cooked meal in, in, well, ever.” Mary hesitated, torn by her need to leave, but not wanting to offend. “We really have to get going.” She headed for the coat closet, walking past a motionless Marshall.

 

“Marshall.”

 

Marshall’s head jerked as Mary’s hand landed on his shoulder. Mary dumped his winter coat in his lap and started putting on her winter gear.

 

Tucking her hair into her cap, she saw that Marshall’s coat was still in his lap. Leaning toward him she quietly spoke directly into his ear. “C’mon Marshall. We need to get going.”

 

Suddenly focusing on his surroundings, Marshall shoved his personal confusion and all his questions aside.

 

“Marshall? Let’s go.” He stood, donning his coat. He thanked their hostess, and gave Joanna a quick run down of does and don’ts designed to keep them safe. Mary nodded in agreement. Then she returned to the table and her sister and squatted down face to face.

“Squish? C’mon Squish.” Brandi opened her eyes, but wasn’t looking at Mary. Mary put both hands on Brandi’s shoulders and gently jiggled.

“Mmmm?” Brandi responded, finally looking at her.

“What. Mary, what?” What had gotten into those two? Brandi seemed half asleep, relaxed by the alcohol and the maybe the reassuring presence of her sister. But why had Marshall spaced out?

“I need to make sure you understand something. This is important. It could mean your life, and mom’s.” Mary hoped mentioning Jinx would impress Brandi with just how important.

Brandi shivered at the mention of Jinx. Mary was forcing images of a bound and gagged Jinx out of her mind, hoping she wasn’t broadcasting her fear to Brandi. Brandi sat up and nodded, noticing that Mary held something in her hand.

“I’m taking your phone, and leaving you this burner. I’ve programmed our numbers. My burner is #1, Marshall’s  #2. The third speed dial is the New Jersey Marshall’s office – if we aren’t answering. The fourth is our boss in Albuquerque. Don’t use any other phone numbers to contact us. Don’t use any other phone period.“

“Ok,yeah, I got it.” Brandi responded looking at the tracfone Mary had placed in her hand.

“If you see anyone or anything odd, call me. Anyone repeatedly walking by this house. Any car you see again and again that doesn’t belong here. Door to door salesmen." That made Brandi snort. No one went door to door, let alone in the middle of winter in New Jersey.

“Anything odd. Understand?” Brandi looked at her, eyes wide and nodded. She slowly repeated “1, you, 2 Marshall, 3 Jersey Marshals, 4 your boss. ”

“Right,” Mary exhaled, relieved that Brandi had gotten that straight. She couldn’t stay any longer. Time to go. Past time. She felt guilty for taking the time to enjoy dinner. What did Jinx get to eat?

“Joanna tells me you’ve been staying in the basement,” Mary continued, hoping Brandi didn’t pick up on her fears .

“Yeah, it’s . . it’s nice  – tv, bathroom, couch. I’m ok with it.”  Brandi clutched the phone like the life line it could be.

“Good, that’s good Squish.” Mary gently brushed back a strand of Brandi’s hair. “The house needs to look empty when Joanna leaves. No sounds. You have a head set or ear buds, right?”

“Yeah, I got ‘em.” Brandi nodded slowly, her eyes drooping. Mary gave Brandi’s shoulders a final squeeze, and what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Hang in there, Squish. We will fix this.”

Standing up Mary asked Joanna “Is there a back way out of here?”

“Right off the kitchen,” Joanna replied. “There’s the mud room, and a few steps down to the backyard. Go to your left, past the garbage cans. The gate sometimes squeaks. Made me jump last week it was so loud.”

Acknowledging Joanna’s directions with a nod, Mary got out her gloves. When Brandi stood, she enveloped her, shocking Brandi who couldn’t remember the last time her sister had hugged her. Certainly never as an adult. Mary thanked Joanna again and headed for the back door, trailed by a quiet Marshall.

The cold air snapped Marshall back to the real world, looking for real bad guys who were looking for them. From the porch, he scanned the neighbor’s yards and picked out the path past the garbage cans. The night was crisp, quiet. The sound of a dog barking to be let in to the warmth of house and family disturbed the dark.

“Where are your geek goggles?” Mary mocked. Maybe she could distract him from his distraction by focusing on his new, night vision glasses.

“Not here,” he muttered, “but I did take my bilberry.” Marshall started down the steps after her. The snow squeaking under his boots. Mary skimmed past the cans and into the side yard. The winds had blown the snow off their path. The walkway to the street had been shoveled.

Mary took point but halted before heading to the car. Marshall stood, neck extended, scanning the area. No one seemed to be out in the cold. Except them. His hoarse whisper carried through the still air. “Clear.”

“Doing your meerkat imitation?” Mary asked. _Damn Animal Planet_. Before he could reply she trotted toward their vehicle, Marshall a few yards behind. “The efficacy of bilberry was discovered during World War II,” Marshall began softly.

Mary realized this wasn’t just his usual spew of trivia. She could track him by his voice and concentrate on surveilling the area. _Her Doofus was pretty savvy_.

“Pilots and bombardiers in the RAF who had bilberry pie the night before a bombing run were reported to hit their targets more often. Bilberry and any blue fruit contain lutein, which makes up the liquid part of the eyeball.”

Mary reached the driver’s door. She got her travel flashlight and checked the interior before unlocking it. Marshall peered behind the car and checked under the car, front and back with his flashlight. He remembered the acid eroded brake fluid hose from the nightmare of the abandoned desert store. The fact that Mary had been married to Mark Stuber temporarily took second place. Mary was belted into the driver’s seat starting the engine when Marshall got in.

“I say Jeeves, where to?” Marshall asked in a corny British accent that made Mary roll her eyes and turned up the ends of her mouth just a bit.

Mashall mentally high fived himself for scoring this reaction. He needed to approach the subject of her marriage carefully. Mary needed to focus on driving. Every hour Jinx was missing increased the pressure on Mary. Another night, another 8 hours without progress would kill her. _Maybe not_. Her loud yawn made him think she might rest tonight. And so would he. After they talked.

Mary checked the road ahead carefully as she doubled back before getting onto the highway. The concrete was clear, but she knew the threat black ice posed. It could derail them faster than the mob goons. She swerved right then left testing the steering. When they hit an open stretch she muttered “Let’s see what this baby can do.”

Marshall took that as his cue to tighten his seat belt. He hung on to grab handle just in time to be pushed back by the acceleration. Gritting his teeth, he was about to suggest she slow down when she took her foot off the gas and let the car coast to a reasonable speed.

“That get your blood pumping?” she turned to face him.

“While my heart is beating faster than usual, that could be attributed to your proximity,” he grinned at her. If this was some sort of test, he was determined to pass.

“Awww, really? That’s sweet.” She stomped on the gas and then hit the brake to make him thump back and forth. She laughed when he gulped. She hadn’t had a playmate in forever. There hadn’t been anyone she could relax with, someone she could tease. Although Mary seemed to have been born with a gruff, prickly, no nonsense manner, most women in the old boys club of law enforcement adopted a serious attitude so they would be taken seriously. Mary’s version of serious was just. . . .different.

With Marshall, that wasn’t a problem. She knew, deep in her mind – _her heart? –_ he had a high regard for her shooting, tracking and crime solving skills. She wasn’t the planner he was, but her gut was almost always on target.

He relaxed hearing her playful teasing tone. They needed to talk, but not in the car. He had to see her face, to gauge her reaction to his questions about Mark, about her marriage. There were photos at Joanna’s of a young man with brown hair and an easy smile. Probably Mark. He wondered how recent the photo was. He racked his brain trying to remember every detail of Mary’s place in Jersey. Photos? He didn’t remember any on her walls. He remembered the framed painting with mesas and cactus --the twin to the one at his house. _Damn freaky._

Mary got off the highway near the city. She cruised through dreary snow plowed streets with barely enough room for the car. Moonlight provided better illumination than the dim street lights. When the car stopped, they were parked in front of the office of a small well lit motel.

Mary nudged him, urging him toward the office. “You go. They might remember me.” _Huh?_  He opened the door, slid out of the seat, hit the ice and nearly slid under the car. She watched as Marshall’s gloves clawed at the door handle. Mary snorted softly. “You better be okay doofus. No way I can carry you,” she whispered hoarsely. Marshall stood as if at attention, his back to the car. After slamming the car door, he gathered his dignity and long winter coat with a theatrical flourish, and paraded to the office ignoring Mary’s chuckle.

A few minutes later Marshall returned with the room key. An actual metal key, none of those new fangled electronic cards here. She parked near the ground floor room, exchanged the car key for the room key, and tilted her head toward the rear of the car and their luggage. By the time Marshall entered the small surprisingly clean room, Mary had checked the room and removed her jacket. Rifling through her bag, she grabbed her tooth brush and Marshall’s toothpaste before heading to the bathroom.

Marshall sat, bouncing on the queen sized bed. Firm, no lumps. Nice.

“How did you find this place, Mare?”

Gesturing with her toothbrush from the open bathroom door, she said “Old man Woodson,”she began. Inserting the toothbrush back into her mouth, she continued. “He pays protection to the gangs. The rooms cost more, but we’re less likely to have night visitors, and cash isn’t a problem,” she said around the toothbrush. Marshall’s eyes widened at the mention of night visitors. Pausing to rinse, she nodded towards the bathroom. “All yours.” She grabbed her bag and stripped off her sweater. He closed the door as she wriggled her bra off without removing her long sleeve thermal shirt. He was glad to see she barely winced.

Sighing and looking down at his hand, Marshall was surprised and pleased that he had remembered to grab his toothbrush. It took all his concentration to stay on task when Mary was in the room. _She is the most distracting female I’ve ever met. And she’s mine. Isnt she?_ He washed and brushed and left the bathroom, ready to talk.

Mary was lying under the garish quilt, eyes closed.

_Oh no, Sunshine. You’re not getting out of this one._

Marshall jostled the bed to alert her. Bending down he whispered into her ear “Have I been consorting with a divorcee?”

“Consorting? Nuh uh,” she mumbled without opening her eyes. “We’ve done lots of different **things** , she emphasized , but I don’t think we ever did that.”

Suddenly understanding the import of his question, her eyes flicked open. “What are you talking about?“ _I do not want to talk about this tonight. No part of what we need to do involves my past._ She pushed herself up on her elbows, scooting back against the headboard.

Marshall straightened and stepped back from the bed. He needed the advantage of height and clarity of distance if he was to get an answer from her.

“So, you aren’t divorced?” She closed her eyes and his gut quaked. _Did you pick the Stubers because you are married to Mark? Is that why Brandi is there?_

“Annulled,” she carefully enunciated. “Not divorced. We got an annulment.” Opening her eyes, she huffed. “I was 17 and stupid. He was 22. I thought he was my ticket off the Jinx and Brandi not so merry go round. He wasn’t. That’s it.” _Just leave it Marshall. Please_.

“That’s it?” he squeaked, outraged by her dry recitation. “Didn’t it mean anything?” Did Mary take the commitment of marriage lightly? Was he really her Dream Mann? How well did he know her?

“So, your ex-husband is Mark Stuber?” He was working up to more angry questions when she answered.

Mary was watching him. She gritted her teeth. “Yeah, sort of.”

She was trying not to lash out. Trying to make this usually perceptive man hear what she was saying. “Like I said” she continued evenly, “We had the marriage **annulled**. That means it’s like there never was one. If there wasn’t a marriage, there can’t be an ex-husband.”

“Jesus, Marshall,” she exhaled, flopping back down on the bed.

When she looked at him, he seemed. . .  _What was that look? Hurt? Her usual response was_ ‘grow a pair.’ But not for this man. _If I can hurt him without trying, he’d be better off without me._

Marshall could see her curling in on herself. An ache underlay his voice when he asked, “Why did I have to hear this from Brandi?”

“Brandi told you?” Mary’s voice rose. “That little narc,” she huffed. Looking up at him she snarkily asked, “How did it come up? ‘You know, Mary did once find a guy who actually married her, but he came to his senses after two days?’”

“Mare, we were at the Stuber’s home. Of course it came up. I want to know everything about you and I figured your sister would be a good person to ask. We naturally started talking about your old boyfriends.”

“Naturally,” she snarked.

Mary, sat up and swung her legs to the floor and groaned. Putting her head in her hands she muttered, “Great, just great. If she told you about all my ‘boyfriends’ you must think I’m a slut.”

“No.” he said quickly, loudly. “I don’t think you’re a slut.” He paused and sniffed, raised his chin looking away from her. “I know you are passionate.”

“Huh.” She saw his pose. _He’s teasing_. _Maybe there’s hope yet._  “Passionate. That’s one word for it.”

Mary waited till he turned to look at her.  “Marshall, listen. The entire ‘marriage’” she made air quotes, “consisted of 36 hours over 10 years ago.” She shook her head. “I don’t think of it. Why would I think to tell you?”

“But you’re still friends. You told your sister to go to his house!” Marshall insisted, with considerable passion of his own.

“Not exactly” At his quizzical look she added, “Not exactly friends. And not his house either. His mother’s.” Marshall wondered if she was trying to convince him or herself.

“I knew his mom still lived there. It was close to where Brandi was. Someplace she could get to quick. A place she doesn’t usually go. A place they wouldn’t think to look.”

Then so quietly he barely heard her, “I hope.” _Really, Marshall. I did think about this._

“I don’t keep in touch with Mark. He sometimes calls Brandi. I don’t have his phone number and he doesn’t have mine.” Mary had to convince him that this omission was a minor blip. She didn’t want him to wonder if he needed to protect his heart, or if he could trust her. _I wouldn’t trust me_.

“He’s still in love with you,” Marshall stated flatly. He could understand how a man could love Mary for ten years, even if he never saw her, rarely talked to her. He knew he could be that man.

“What?” she squawked. “You never even met him.” _Hello crazy? You missing a passenger on the looney train?_

She snorted and looked up.“Besides, if anything it was lust, not love.”

At Marshall’s questioning look she added, “We were good in the sack. Some, some chemistry, I guess.” She looked distracted.

She saw the pained look on Marshall’s face. “You’ve had girlfriends. I know you have. I have first hand evidence.” Her eyes softened remembering.

Marshall ducked his head. “I’ve had my share of encounters of the intimate kind. But we are different,” he whispered hoarsely. “For me, with you, it’s different. Isn’t it different for you?”

Mary stood, close but not touching. Her gaze turned inward as she searched her memories of them, of their dreams. “You’re right,” she admitted. “There’s something about you, about us I can’t put my finger on.  When we’re apart, I worry. I need to know you’re safe, and,” she hesitated. “It hurts to think of you being hurt.” The dream where Marshall got shot was painful, even though it was just the memory of a dream. “I don’t think I would know love if it bit me on the ass. But. . . ” she trailed off.

“Do you ever think of our future?” He had to know.

“The future,” she echoed.

“Hmm,” she exhaled. “The future hasn’t figured in my thinking for years, for . . . ever,” Mary responded. “Since I became a Marshal it’s been one fugitive at a time. Until I moved to Albuquerque.” _Until you._

Marshall reached his hands out for hers only to have her jump back. “What the hell Marshall? Your hands are freezing.”

He quickly withdrew his hands, lowered his head and explained. “I had to take my gloves off to check the wiring and hoses. That jalopy you got us has a lot of wires and hoses.”

“C’mere.” Mary tucked both his hands under her arms. They stood a few inches apart. Marshall was afraid he would lose a testicle if he tickled her.

Mary gazed over his shoulder, eyes unfocused and soft while his digits slowly warmed.

“Mare, where’d you go?” Marshall wondered if the events of the last few days had caught up with her, her mind and body refusing any additional input.

“Mare?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking Sunshine?” he asked gently.

Mary looked at his caring face, surprised. She wasn’t seeing the face she expected. The face she remembered.

“Tell me. Please.”

It was the please that broke her silence. She cleared her throat, “The last time I did this, it was Brandi’s hands. There were times when,” she paused, wary of sharing the bad times. She didn’t want to appear weak. She didn’t want his pity.

“There wasn’t any heat. Brandi loved making snowmen, but without mittens her hands were blocks of ice. I could use the oven mitts, but they wouldn’t stay on her hands. She didn’t seem to mind, but her hands were so pink they hurt just to look at.”

Marshall pulled her close trailing his fingers down her arms. “Thank you for telling me.” _It must be painful to remember._ He pulled her into a hug and whispered, “Time for bed, Sunshine.”

Mary nodded and climbed in, scooting over and raising the pilled gaudy cover. Marshall followed, facing her. He gave her a quick peck on the lips, murmuring “Sweet dreams, Sunshine.”

Mary turned on her side, away from him. Marshall relaxed in her warmth, her closeness.

“Are we ok?” Mary asked not turning to face him. The hurt was gone from his voice, but she needed to know. She needed to hear him say it.

“Yeah, we’re ok.” He breathed out gustily. “Once we have your mom back, the talk, THE talk is a coming. Got that?”

She let out a relieved sigh at the conviction in his tone. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good.”

“Always gotta have the last word,” she groused as she snuggled into her pillow.

“No, that would be you.”

She snorted softly. The mattress squeaked as Marshall turned. His hand tentatively sought her hip. She grabbed it, pulling it to rest with hers on her stomach. As her eyes closed and sleep settled in, she dreamed of his hand on her belly, her very round belly.

 

A/N: Sorry for the long delay. Real life has intruded big time. Thanks to all who have reviewed. There’s more. Eventually.


	7. Jinxed in Jersey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having breached the subject of Mary's marriage and survived, Mary and Marshall continue their search for Jinx at the New Jersey Marshal's office. What's happening to Jinx?

Jinxed Redux

 Chapter 7 –Jinxed in Jersey

Rejuvenated by a full night’s sleep, Marshall opened his eyes, feeling Mary’s warmth next to him. _Mmmm_. _Doesn’t get any better than this_.

_Other than the fact that Mary’s mom is still missing, someone is trying to kill Mary, and Brandi is a virtual prisoner._

That wasn’t good. But lying here, next to Mary, that was definitely . . . .good. He smiled at how Mary would tease him for being at a loss for words. Meeting Brandi was a surprise. She was nothing like Mary. Brandi didn’t have the sharp brashness of her sister. She wasn’t driven. He wondered what Jinx was like.

Wading through yesterday’s events he remembered a question that needed answering. Why would the motel manager recognize Mary? She had him sign them in saying that the desk clerk might know her. Was this a spot she used when she saddled up a cowboy? He quickly banked the embers of jealousy by wondering if it was work related. Had she bunked here while chasing fugitives?

“G’morning, Mare,” he greeted as she stirred, wriggling closer to him _uh-oh_ and smacking her lips dried out by the room’s heater.

She rolled over and looked at him. He was pleased to see recognition in her green eyes. Recognition and a certain fondness, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Sleep okay?” he asked.

Stretching her arms up, Mary murmered, “mmm uh huh.” The blanket slipped down, giving Marshall a look at two of his favorite places.

“This motel was a good choice.” A little flattery never hurt. “It was so quiet I wondered if we were the only guests.” He hoped to get her talking about the place, about Mr. Woodson, the owner, and the legal standing of the clientele. Present company excepted, of course.

Mary shrugged in response to his comment. “Nyah, there were other cars in the parking lot, remember?”

Marshall did recall other vehicles. He had checked them out, noting the license plates. Still, there must be lots of empty rooms, given the moderate size of the motel, and the few cars. Mid-week vacancies?

“So,” he teased. Nothing lost by being direct. “Come here often?”

Mary flipped hair out of her fact and raised herself on her elbows, narrowing her eyes and calculating why Marshall had asked.

“You mean is this my usual throw down spot?” She could tell by the way he drew his head back that she had hit the mark. He was damn curious about her pre-Marshall love life. Why was that? She’d never been with the same man as long as she’d been with Marshall. Maybe it was a time thing.

“Well, was it?” It wasn’t prying. They were together, a couple. He’d gladly reveal his past life and loves. He hoped she would do the same.

She smirked. “Nope.”

Relieved, he waited for her to continue. And waited. Finally Mary laid back, eyes on the ceiling. “The Marshal’s picked up the bill when I stayed here.”

Whew. So it was related to work. “Fugitive? JPATS?” he asked.

“Nuh uh.” Mary decided to let Marshall stew a while and see what his imagination cooked up. It might be more interesting than the truth.

Finally realizing what Mary wanted to hear, Marshall said “I give up.”

Mary eyes lit up as Marshall handed her the win. “Protecting a judge.”

“Wait, you were never on courthouse duty.” Marshall had seen her service record. No court security time on her record.

“Special case. I was familiar with most of the members of the gang that was after the judge. My partner and I were assigned to protect her while the other LEOs and Feds did their thing. Which they did. Caught most of them. One douchebag escaped. Stashing the judge here, a place agreed upon by all the gangs as safe territory meant attacking her here meant risking retaliation. Made him think twice. “

Now fully awake, Mary relished telling the details.

“Did you get him?” Marshall asked. She seemed pleased to tell the tale.

“Oh yeah,” she replied, a note of warmth at the memory of that take down.

“You’re the one who arrested him? Right?” Marshall concluded.

“Well, . . . “ she dragged out.  She may have told the story often, but he had never heard it. “I was the decoy. Dressed right, I could pass as the judge -- if you didn’t look too close. Stupid shit thought he could take me,” she harrumphed. “Not gonna happen. Not just one guy.”

“You took him down, alone.” Marshall stated, clearly worried. He was afraid the lone she-wolf, exposed herself to danger needlessly.

Mary scooted up against the headboard. “The gang banger thought he’d snuck up on me. Fffttt. He was as noisy as a pig in purgatory. He was right behind me, and back up was behind him. Stupid shit didn’t even notice.”

Despite the fact that Mary sat before him, whole and healthy, he had to know if she had been hurt. “So,” he dragged out the vowel, “he made a grab for you?”

“Yup. I stomped on his instep, grabbed his elbow, threw my head back and broke his nose.”

Marshall chortled, “That’s my girl.”

“All that was left for the back up was to pick up the pieces and jail the bastard. He’s still there,” she replied smugly.

“Speaking of up” Mary nodded toward him. Marshall started to choke when he saw which part of his anatomy had Mary’s attention. Mary snarked “One of us is up.”

She loved seeing Marshall's pink face. “That’s a good color on you.” He got out of bed, thwapped her head and shoulders with his pillow and escaped to the bathroom.

Jersey Marshal’s office, Newark, NJ

The Jersey Marshall Office Annex was a slab of federal architecture grimed by decades of smog and snow. It was lower than the surrounding skyscrapers, but taller than the Sunshine Building. Several different divisions of marshals made their home in this unremarkable building. Mary squealed the tires as she pulled into the parking garage. Marshall’s knuckles whitened on the ‘oh shit’ handle as she swirled through the garage and came to an abrupt stop.

It had taken them till early afternoon to get there. Marshall drove, Mary directed. Both kept a lookout for the goons that tried to run the off the road. After a break for food they switched drivers. Mary took a circuitous route to the office of the Jersey Marshalls where she had worked.

“Too fast for ya Doofus?” She was hoping to get Marshall to turn a nice shade of green. He remained stubbornly Marshall colored. _Hmph, tougher than I thought_.

“That was a reasonable imitation of the Super Fire Ball at Cliff’s.” Marshall wasn’t wild about roller coasters but they didn’t scare him. Mary’s driving. **That** scared him.

As they threaded their way between the posts of the underground garage Mary continued,“You mean that sorry excuse for an amusement park in Albuquerque? You need to go to ride the Kingda Ka in Jackson, New Jersey. That’s a coaster.” The guard nodded his agreement. “It’s pretty sick.” “What can I do for you” he paused as they showed their badges, “Inspectors?” Mary asked for Chief Varney. They were given directions to his office and pointed to the elevator.

Small offices filled out the perimeter of a large rectangular room. Desks crammed the center. No windows could be seen. No mountains. They threaded their way to a glassed in office with a single desk, and a window with a view of the next building. The occupant spotted Mary and came out to greet them. “Mary!” the Chief exclaimed. The tall fit looking man with silver sideburns knew Mary wouldn’t welcome a hug. He grabbed Mary’s hand and held it in both of his. “Good to see you, Inspector, although I’m sorry about the reason for this visit.”

Marshall saw Mary tense at the touch. Her mother was missing. Someone had tried to run her over. She had every reason be off her feed. Nevertheless, Mary tolerated the Chief’s greeting, dropping her head so her hair hid her discomfort.

“Chief, this is my partner, Marshal Marshall Mann.” Marshall extended his hand only to have it crushed in a vice like grip that suddenly released as the Chief looked up at him with surprise.

“Mann?” he asked. “Any relation to . . .

“Yes sir. Seth Mann is my father,” Marshal supplied.

Mary knew of Seth Mann, and knew his son was nothing like him. Seth Mann was a legendary Fugitive Task Force leader. A hunter of men. Seth Mann was not known for his planning and threat assessments.

“Your father has quite a legacy. You have a lot to live up to,” the Chief acknowledged.

_Or live down_. Marshall grimaced at the comments, but the Chief, focused on Mary, didn’t seem to notice.

Mary did.

“Marshall’s the strategist,” Mary announced. “ “He’s almost as good a shot as me,” she added, bumping his shoulder. “His brain and my gut make a good team.”

Marshall looked at Mary, pleased at her compliment. The Chief wondered how the tall marshal had earned her loyalty. Partners routinely backed each other up. A good partner could save your life. Great partners saved each other. “Riding herd on you is probably the most difficult part of his job,” Chief Varney joked. She swallowed, and muttered, “Yeah.” The Jersey office had only known her as a lone wolf, a tough cynical bitch. _Way to ruin your reputation, Shannon. Praising your partner._

Embarrassed by her faux pas, Mary changed the subject. “Any word on my mom?”

“Come on in, and I’ll show you what we’ve got. It’s not much.” He led them to a conference room. It was shabbier than Mary remembered. All institutional paint and plaster walls. The clean lines of the Albuquerque office made this place look grim. The glass of the conference room added a pall to the room. No sun light penetrated the interior of this building.

The Chief plunked himself into a chair and gestured Mary and Marshall to sit. “Eleanor sent this.” He shoved a file across the table.

“Not much new here,” Marshall conceded, “but it’s a place to start.” He handed over the slim file to Mary who focused on every word of the few pages.

“We think,” Marshall began, seeking Mary’s approval at revealing their analysis. She nodded. “James Shannon, Jinx’s husband has something to do with her disappearance. We know that his last bank job was two years ago.” He paused, looking to the Chief, “James Shannon is. . .”

“Inspector Shannon’s father. I’m well aware of that,” the Chief interrupted.

“Good,” Marshall replied without rancor. “I think you’ll see how that explains the connections we want to check.”

Mary picked up the narrative. “The money never surfaced although the banks have the list of serial numbers. If one showed up, Treasury would have sent an alert. I think he worked with Christopher Lawrence Jeburk, Daniel Evans and Lamarko Rosco, but didn’t get arrested with them because he blew off that last heist.”

This was news to Marshall. Mary hadn’t mentioned her father’s co-conspirators. She had been investigating on her own.

Marshall added, “Seems reasonable that they would blame him. Think he sold them out. Revenge is motive and the missing money could explain why they went after a family member. Leverage.”

“Yes,” agreed the Chief. “Damn scum.”

“Those rats still ruin lives even after we lock them up,” Mary agreed. 

“James Shannon has been of interest to local organized crime, and it’s rumored the MS13 gang is looking for him.” Chief Varney informed them.

Mary and Marshall looked at the Chief. “That’s new,” Marshall’s voice was quiet, calculating the complication.

Mary had been gazing into the distance, distracted. “Organized crime makes sense. They can launder the money from a bank heist. What would the gangs want with my father?” Mary asked. Her brow furrowed and Marshall knew that the mention of a violent street gang only increased her worry about Jinx. These weren’t your business suited mobsters. These were irrational violent excuses for humanity.

Chief Varney sighed. “That we don’t know. The gangs usually stick to drugs. Maybe they want him to plan a drug heist? Break into a pharmaceutical plant?”

They all paused thinking of the carnage the gangs could cause. Marshall broke the silence. “Chief, I need a computer.”

The Chief sighed, “Let me make a few calls. The techs get bent out of shape if we try to subvert their firewalls.” he replied.

Within half an hour, Marshall was making nice with a loaner, encouraging it to contact and emulate the machine at his desk in Albuquerque. He was pleased but irritated that his computer’s security was more robust than anticipated. He had to call Stan and walk him through the protocol to let Marshall use the programs on his own computer. Once in, he and Mary discussed leads, set up searches and composed a threat analysis. Chief Varney watched, interested.

“That’s pretty slick,” the Chief complimented. “Bet you could teach our tech heads a thing or two.” Marshall was glad that the Chief seemed to grasp the usefulness of the programs he had created. He wondered if his father would understand.

“I’ll leave you two to it. I’m heading out. You need anything, ask Inspector Larrison. He’s been briefed on Jinx’s case and knows the gangs. Try bouncing some of your theories off him.”

“Good night Chief, and thanks for letting us camp out here” Mary said to his retreating back.

On their own, in the practically deserted office, Mary leaned over Marshall’s shoulder and whispered “Getting your geek on?” Marshall shuddered as her breath whooshed across his ear. “That’s Inspector Geek to you.” A tiny smile graced his aquiline face. Mary saluted and responded, “Yes sir!” broadening Marshall’s smile. Mary blew in his ear again.

“Mare,” he whined, “I’m workin here.”

Appalled that she had forgotten her mother for those few seconds, Mary sobered, drew back and muttered “Focus, Shannon, dammit, focus.” Her mother could be injured, tortured or even dead. How could she?

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Marshall soothed. “You’re allowed a break from this nightmare.”

Her voice was gravely and low. “Get away from me Marshall.  Everything I touch turns to crap.”

Marshall completed a few keystrokes, then pushed his chair back, and stood facing his partner.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” calling on Mary’s sense of fairness got her attention.

“You are a good woman, and a good marshal. You are the yin to my yang, the hot to my cool.”

All he could see was the top of her golden haired head, but he heard her,  “Don’t say yin” then after a beat continue “or yang.”  She was forced to look up to see his reaction. He gingerly put his arms around her. She tensed, then relaxed. “That’s my girl.”

“So you’re cool, huh?”she snorted in disbelief. Marshall smiled and nodded. “That’s me. Cool, refreshing, invigorating.” Mary snorted, but stayed in his arms. “Get back to work, Inspector Cool.”

Marshall toiled through the night. He moved the keyboard to avoid the blonde hair splayed across the desk. After her nights of interrupted sleep her body required rest.  Marshall felt driven to do all he could, but by 3 a.m. the sand in his eye sockets told him he needed a break. Chief Varney had shown them the break room, which smelled of coffee and stale packaged pastry. It also had a couch. Marshall walked a drowsy Mary to it and covered her with his long winter coat. She roused briefly, but his whispered nonsense returned her to slumber.

Marshall fortified himself with the sludge that passed for coffee and went back to the computer, trawling for information connecting James Shannon or his former partners to Jinx’s abduction.

Somewhere in New Jersey

The heavy solid door made little sound as a slender man, clad in jeans and a flannel shirt entered the threadbare office. He stood in front of the big battered wooden desk, waiting. The desk lamp was the only light in the room. An middle aged man with a beer belly held a pencil over a series of blueprints.

Without looking up, he asked “How’s the old broad doing?” His button down shirt was open at the collar. Despite the lack of heat, he appeared comfortable in shirtsleeves. His underling cleared his throat and said “She’s good. All it takes to keep her quiet is booze.”

“Yeah?” the man’s cold eyes pierced the younger man’s confidence. “How much?”

“She’s gone through three bottles of cheap whiskey.”

 “Damn it. Do I have to do everything myself?”

The younger man wilted, and stammered, “No, no sir.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of alcohol poisoning?” He skewered the slender man with a look.  “Dumb shit. I need her alive.” The underling scampered toward the door.“Wait. What are you going to do?”

“Uh, uh, check on her. Make sure she won’t choke if she upchucks. Ah what else?”

“Get Jeff to look at her. He’ll know what to do.”

The underling left as quickly as he could, catching the door with his hand so it wouldn’t slam. The man went back to reading the blue prints.


	8. Oldies But Not Goodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee. What could be dangerous about going for coffee in Newark?

Chapter 8 – Oldies but not Goodies

Mary emerged from sleep, stiff from lying in the same position. Trying to stretch caused her ‘blanket’ to slide to the floor.

“What the hell?” she grumbled, one hand blindly reaching for the warmth of her cover. Her outstretched fingers closed on thin air. Irritated, she tried to roll over and her eyes popped open as she almost fell off the narrow couch. She put a foot down and managed to stay on the couch, mostly. Now wide awake, she looked around the small utilitarian break room. The smell of day old coffee and vending machine plastic crystallized her location - NJ Marshal’s Annex.

Sitting back on the couch, Mary grabbed her blanket, not surprised to find Marshall’s long winter coat. She thought about searching the pockets. She wondered what he usually carried there. _Nyah. Probably get my fingers stuck in some electronic mouse trap, and have to fess up that I’d been snooping. Her devil of an angel said, ‘he won’t mind.’_

Running her fingers through her hair, she went to the dimly lit bullpen to find Marshall. She walked softly. Didn’t want to startle him. It was still late, or, Mary noticed, glancing at a clock, very early. Islands of light came from the desk lamps of the few marshals already at work. Looking at the desk they shared last night, she sees Marshall nose to the keyboard, softly snoring.

“Ah doofus.” She gently moved his face off the keyboard, and sets his cheek down on his folded scarf _. At least he won’t be a marked man_. She had a hard time not snickering at the impressions left on his lean face by the keys. “You must have been up all night,” she croons softly, patting his hair, running her finger around the outside of the collar, careful not to touch and wake him. Realizing they are not alone, she removes her hand, and checks to see if anyone noticed. Feigning disinterest she sees a few marshals  watching them, coffee cups in hand.

Mary’s not quite awake brain registered the sight and she murmured distractedly, “Coffee.” Coffee and some Danish would do them both good. Breakfast of champions. She remembers a small shop around the corner. They had pretty good java. _Let’s see if it’s up_ _to Marshall’s standards_. Grabbing her jacket, she checks her badge, gets her Glock, and heads to the elevator. The same guard who greeted them yesterday afternoon is on duty.

The lobby has been stripped of vending machines, water dispenser, anything that a terrorist could use. The guard at the reception desk verified that anyone entering the building proper has a valid reason to be there. But the lobby is technically open to the public. It’s fair game.

“Hey,” Mary casually calls from the elevator. The elevator was quiet and she didn’t want to sneak up on him. The guard looked up from setting out the day’s visitor log. “Good morning, Inspector.” He appraised her rumpled clothes and tousled hair signs of an over night stay.

Seeking to verify his conclusion, he quickly checked the visitor log. “I don’t see your name on the log today. You stay all night?” he asks.

“Yup,” she responds. Mary’s not much on small talk, but volunteers that he needs to check yesterday afternoon to find her sign in.

“Ah yes, I see it now.” The guard points to her name.” I’ve had a few of those nights myself. But now it’s morning. So good morning, Inspector Shannon.” Manning the reception desk is important, but at this time of day there isn’t much activity to occupy the guard.

“Hmph,” she snorts, leaning on the bar high counter, “It might be good - if I had coffee.” She scribbles her initials in the out column of the log, adding the date and time. “Is that little coffee place around the corner still going?”

“You mean Amy’s, right? It’s just down a block, on Franklin. Small shop, but fresh pastries, and coffee’s not bad.” _If Marshall was doing this, he’d offer to bring the guard a Danish. Thoughtful idiot._

“Mmm,” Mary murmurs, “That the one with the huge cheese Danish?” It had been a long time since dinner. Her stomach not only reminded her, it growled loud enough for the guard to hear.

“Time for breakfast huh?” the guard commented. “Yeah, that’s the place, but I prefer their raspberry Danish,” he hinted hopefully.”

“I’ll just have to check that out.” She called back as she pushed through the door and is assaulted by the chilly Newark winter. The coffee shop is close. Her legs could use a stretch. Wrapping the scarf around her neck, she fastens her jacket, puts her hands in the pockets and ventures out to the salted sidewalk.

***

As more people reported to work the noise level in the marshal’s bullpen rose. Marshall breathed in suddenly, lifted his head and brushed the hair out of his eyes. Why was he seeing green? Ah, his scarf. He was sleeping on his folded scarf. Leaving that little mystery for later, he checked the programs he left running last night. Hmm. But first - Mary.

The break room couch is empty but his coat is neatly folded over the back of a chair. Heading to the bathroom, he figures she’ll turn up soon. The office isn’t that big.

***

The coffee shop, was much as she remembered. Brightly lit, two glass cases of pastries and a multi spigot espresso machine. And sitting by itself, a commercial size brewer. The staff had changed. _They get younger every year._ At least it was too early for the corporate cadavers to be crowding the place.

“One large half caff, triple capp, heavy foam, one large coffee and two of those and three of these,” she added, pointing at the pastry behind the glass. She paid for the drinks secured in their cardboard carrier and grabbed the bakery bag, nestling it between the tall white cups. Turning to leave, she smirked and dropped the change into the tip glass. _Marshall would be proud, if I ever tell him._

Shoving one hand into her jacket pocket, Mary strode out of the coffee shop. The freezing wind whistled down the street. Pausing to pull her scarf over her head, she almost lost the drinks, as the cardboard carrier flexed. The wind howled from an alley next to the shop.

Traffic was starting to pick up in the gray dawn. Dirty snow was piled between the sidewalk and the curb. Her scarf loosened, snatched by the wind. She watched it flap and skitter down the alley.

“Damn it.” Without the scarf her hair became a hazard, whipping over her eyes. When she was able to see, she spotted the scarf caught on a dumpster about ten feet away in the alley.  Balancing the coffee and bag of pastries she walked gingerly to the scarf. Her ears were freezing. As she bent down to retrieve her scarf, she heard a vaguely familiar voice.

“If it isn’t Shitty Shannon.” The insult was tossed out with a swaggering confidence that put Mary on alert. The voice sounded louder as the body it belonged to came out from behind a dumpster. “Just can’t get enough of me, right, bitch?”

Paddy O'Connor had grown into a beefy man with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp. Mary remembered the bully who took her sister’s lunch money. Once. Mary ended up in the principal’s office, but breaking his nose did wonders for her reputation.

Paddy never worked alone, she recalled. He preferred to have someone else do his dirty work. He must have real muscle along, somewhere. She heard a crunch on the ice behind her. _Right on time, numnutz._ Another voice, somewhere beyond Paddy, barely audible said “I can’t believe she came right to us. You were right boss!”

_What the hell?_ Suddenly Mary was warm, hot. Before she could respond, Paddy was in front of her holding a sharp shiny knife. She heard a crunch on the ice somewhere behind her. Paddy had the knife pointed at her face. “Let me make you smile, Shannon,” he threatened.

One of their shared dreams/nightmares flashed to mind. Two men, a hunk of cloth soaked in chloroform and a deserted alley. Her stomach quivered. Paddy had gotten too close. He feinted with the knife and connected with her cheek. She moved to the side, trying to get away from the guy behind her.

_Two guys in the dream, but where did the other voice come from? Three guys this time. Piece of cake. Right._

She had inhaled before the cloth landed on her face. This time, she held her breath as she tossed the hot coffee into Paddy’s face. The hot liquid also hit the small third man who was hiding behind Paddy. Paddy was spluttering, disoriented. He dropped the knife to he wipe his eyes.

Mary had no time to admire her accurate toss. As she launched the coffee attack, she backed into the guy who was had his arm around her waist. As his hold loosened, she kicked up and back, then straight down. She felt the satisfyingly crunch of bone as her boot heel connected. The smelly cloth was gone. She threw her head back and heard the crunch of his nose. Then she pulled her Glock.

With his hand still on her waist, he pushed Mary to the ground. Mary rolled, gun in hand, coming up to a crouch. Mr. Bloody Nose was whining and cursing, and limping. Paddy was backing away. _Where_ _is the third guy?_.

She pointed the Glock at her would be assailants, keeping both of them in sight while scanning for any buddies. Broken Nose saw her eyes move down the alley and took the opportunity to head for the street. Mary let him go but closed on Paddy, still blinking the hot caffeine out of his eyes. Kicking the knife under a dumpster, she smiled.

“So, what is it Paddywancker? You miss me at the last Paramus High class reunion?” His eyes shifted right then left.

“Too bad the other guys left the party early. I really wanted to get to know them,” she taunted.

“You remember me Shitty Shannon?”he gloated, as if he was in control, despite his worried look. “Glad to know I made a lasting impression.”

“I’ll make a lasting impression on your ass, Paddy the Wanker. Put these on,”she commanded throwing the handcuffs to him. She heard footsteps, and tensed.

“Stand down, Mare. It’s me.” Marshall, long winter coat, Glock in hand, appraised Mary, frowning at the blood dripping from her cheek.

Marshall approached, grabbed the handcuffs and secured Paddy. Mary recounted recent events. “There’s a guy with a bloody nose --should have gone past you. He’s one of three. The third rat scuttled down the alley.” 

Keeping an eye on Paddy, Marshall called the PD, and described the second assailant.

“Newark PD is on the way. They have a unit nearby.” Finally looking at Mary, his heart sank as he saw that she now had two scratches marring the soft pinkness of her cheek. He hoped the blue gray color on her nose washed off.

“What?” she growled.

“Nothin’” he responded, working hard to keep his voice casual, although he was wound tight. “Just wondering if cuts and bruises are the newest fashion statement. Can’t say it does much for you Mare.”

Mary brushes her face, surprised at the blood on her hand.

The whoop of a police siren heralds welcome company. Mary and Marshall still had their guns pointing at Paddy.

“US Marshals,” Mary bellowed as Marshall flashed his badge at the approaching locals. The officer noted the matching star on Mary’s hip.

“There’s another party to this dance,” she growled. “White male, five feet ten, he should be limping and have a bloody nose. I saw him head that way,” she gestured with a nod of her head. Her attention and her gun were still focused on Paddy. Mary wasn’t ready to let go of her gun. She wasn’t sure she could. Between the cold and adrenaline she wasn’t sure her fingers would unclench.

The officer spoke into his shoulder mike “Assault suspect gimpy white male, bloody nose, heading north on Franklin. Unit 24 copy.”

Click, hiss. “Unit 24, copy. Hey, I see him. Officer in pursuit.”

During the radio silence, Marshall handed the handcuffed Paddy to the officer’s partner, and Mary finally holstered her Glock. Marshall tried to hide his relief. They hadn’t been in a lot of fire fights and he wasn’t sure what she needed to decompress. He knew the adrenaline wound him up tighter than a tick. Despite the cold, her jacket remained open, her hand on her Glock. The tension in her jaw hadn’t eased with the arrival of back up.

The radio clicked and hissed. “Unit 24 reporting. We got him.” Mary sighed in relief, and muttered. “Where in the hell is that third hump?”

“There’s another guy?” Marshall queried.

 “Yeah, I heard him, but didn’t see much of him. He was hiding behind Paddy. He’s the one who said ‘I can’t believe she came to us.’” He called Paddy ‘boss.’

The coffee carrier and pastry were strewn across the dirty alley. Her scarf still hung on the bottom edge of the trash bin. Marshall alerted the uniforms that there was a third assailant. He followed her into the alley, retrieving her scarf, and checking for foot prints. The uniforms methodically combed the alley.

“Damn moron made me toss my Danish,” she grumbled. Marshall picked up their ruined breakfast and deposited it in the dumpster.

“They from Amy’s?” the cop inquired. “We’ve got those at the station. Give your statement, and I’ll make sure there’s a Danish in your future.”

“Make that two and you got a deal,” she agreed. “My partner here hasn’t had breakfast either.”

“Sure thing,” the officer offered.

Marshall interrupted. “The marshal’s service needs to interrogate the suspect.” When the officer gave him a questioning look, Marshall continued, “This attack might connect to on ongoing case.”

Mary looked surprised, but realized, Marshall was right. They needed to question Paddy. As much as she wanted to whack him, they needed to know what he knew. She needed to know why hump #3 had said Mary had ‘come to them.’ Way too much drama, way too early. She needed coffee and sugar to function at a minimal level. A real breakfast better follow soon.

Marshall looked anxiously at his partner. He knew she was running on fumes. He was fuming because she left the office not thinking of her own safety. Why? Did she forget she has a huge target on her back? Police station first, interrogation and then back to the Marshal’s Annex. He sighed. It would be nighttime before he confronted her.

Paddy was thrust into a patrol car. The guy with the bloody nose had been caught a half block away. She and Marshall got a ride in a second police car. Laying her head on the seat back she stretched her still tender midriff. _Wait a minute._

“Marshall?” deep in his own worries, murmured “Hmm?”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“You know Mare, the title Inspector isn’t just an honorific.”

Not impressed, Mary prodded, “Yeah, go on.”

“You signed out. The guard in the lobby told me where you went. He gave me directions.”

“Oh, yeah,” she drew in a long breath. “That figures.” She must be shakier than she realized if she hadn’t been able to connect those dots. She could see the same concern registering on Marshall’s face.

Bumping his shoulder in a friendly way she added, “Your timing’s pretty good.”

Much to her surprise, Marshall stiffened. Was this too much of a public display for the back of a police car? Was he trying to preserve propriety? His eyes and forehead bore lines of concern. She was the one assaulted, yet it was his hand quivering. When he saw her notice, he shoved his hands into his pockets muttering something about the cold.

What’s up with that? What could be bothering Marshall? She’d seen him after a fire fight with less agitation.

Putting her phone to her ear, Mary said “I’m calling Varney. Let him know what happened.”

Marshall gave a perfunctory nod and was silent the rest of the drive to the police station.


	9. PD and Pastry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the attack on Mary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine.

Jinxed Redux – Chapter 9

 

The officers were as good as their word. Mary gave her statement, including a quick recap of Paddy’s aliases and crimes. “That’s only till he left high school. I’m sure there’s more on his record now.” The Newark PD were good for the pastry. The coffee was sludge. Some cosmic rule about the quality of police coffee.

While Mary gave her statement, Marshall questioned the suspect. Finishing her account of the assault, Mary joined two men already in the darkened room adjacent the interrogation room, watching through one way glass. Mary noticed the uniform of a Police Chief on the older man. The other looked like a street thug. Nobody spoke.

The door to the room they were in opened, revealing Chief Varney. He moved next to Mary. Mary acknowledged him with a nod. Varney looked her over carefully, assessing the damages from this morning’s altercation. “Chief, you didn’t have to come.” Although she had caught Paddy and the Newark PD had arrested Mr. Broken Nose, she was embarrassed that the third guy had gotten away.  She put her head down, hoping the fall of blonde hair hid her discomfort.

Moving to the back of the small room, the Chief whispered, “When a marshal is attacked, it’s my business. That’s Newark’s Police Chief and Detective Ruiz from the gang unit.” Mary was glad the room was dark. Her bruises weren’t as obvious. Ruiz and the Police Chief remained focused on the questioning.

Paddy was sitting at the table, the cuffs on his hands fastened to the metal loop. Marshall turned on the recorder, stated his name and the time, and that of her attacker. Mary blinked when she heard it. She had forgotten that Paddy Wanker’s real name was Patrick O’Connor.

Marshall questioned him quietly, but Mary could see the anger he controlled.  With careful persistent questioning and reasonable surmises, he got Paddy to give up the name of Broken Nose. No big reveal there since he was already in custody. But getting Paddy to tell him something could be the start of more.

Paddy denied that there was a third man in the alley. “It’s a public place. People are always comin’ and goin’. Could have been anyone.”

Marshall leaned forward, telling Paddy that no one, but a third man, could have made the footprints in the snow. They all heard Marshall’s voice rise as he harangued Paddy. Mary turned to Varney. “Get him out of there.” Marshall was ready to blow. Varney understood. They were partners and she knew her partner

The knock on the door made Marshall unclamp his hand from the table. His knuckles were white. Another detective took his place, and the questioning continued.

Mary left the observation room greeting Marshall quietly. “Hey, you ok?” She was surprised to see the flat look to his eyes. “C’mon, lets go sit in the break room while they finish. Ok?”

They sat with cups of station sludge. Marshall didn’t say a word. Minutes ticked by, and still Chief Varney and the policemen hadn’t come out of the room. Marshall shoved his coffee aside and got up. Showing his badge, the entered the observation room, leaving Mary to figure out what was bothering her partner.

Marshall nodded to Chief Varney, and the other two men. He watched them as they watched the interrogation. At one point the scruffy detective mumbled, “Oh shit.” The police chief echoed with “This is not good. Thank God they didn’t get her. Blondes go for premium prices overseas.”

Marshall’s eyebrows entered his hairline. He looked questioningly at Varney who mouthed “sex trafficking.” Those words caused Marshall’s imagination to spin out of control. He pictured Mary tied up, assaulted, used and abused. The thought of any man putting his hands on his Mary made his blood boil. To think of those animals assaulting her pushed him over the edge. He left the room and went to find Mary.

Interrogation finally done, Mary and Marshall met with the local police and Chief Varney. Paddy had a number of connections to organized crime. Lamarko Roscoe, James Shannon’s one time partner, had been released from prison last year. Law enforcement kept tabs on him till last month when he’d dropped out of sight. Paddy’s other connection was more sinister, Jonathon Fuentes of the MS13. He's in jail for sex trafficking, but his organization continued their ‘export/import’ trade. Two snitches had been found dead. The gang was careful to cover their tracks.

Lunch and dinner had been perfunctory affairs, grabbed from vending machines. Marshall found he wasn’t hungry. For once, Mary’s voracious appetite was gone.

They argued all the way from the Jersey police station. He swore she would never go anywhere without him. Mary insisted she was a “goddamn United States Marshall.” The job sometimes meant doing it alone. She admitted to herself that her habit of working solo was hard to kick. Especially in Jersey where she always worked solo. With Jinx missing, she had difficulty remembering that she had a real partner now. And that partner had certain expectations.

Walking to their motel room they were silent. Marshall began reciting, “The Newark Police Department is the largest municipal police force in New Jersey. It’s also the fifth oldest in the United States.”

Marshall spouted trivia when he was relaxed, happy even. This time he spewed the facts between gritted teeth. His fists hung at his side, knuckles white. Mary could see his distress but had no idea how to diffuse it. Except the obvious. But Marshall wasn’t interested in sex.

“Can it Marshall. I caught him, he’s in jail. We’ve got a lead. It’s over.”

“No Mare,” he grabbed her arm as she loped ahead of him on the narrow walkway leading to their room. “It’s not over. The goons are still out there.” He held her elbow even as he surveilled the parking lot, the street, every car, every light, every one of the few people braving the cold night.

Turning back to her, he rasped, “They are targeting you.” He’s breathing hard, gasping as the frozen air hits his lungs. “They want you Mary, don’t you get that?”

“Goddamn rat bastards. I should have known that moron Paddywanker was up to no good. Stupid shit,” Mary groused, arms crossed, head down, Marshall’s hand still on her arm awkwardly leading her from behind.

Realizing his grasp had tightened into a control hold, she sputtered, “What the hell, numnutz?”

He released her when they got to their room. She got out the key but he yanked it out of her hand, jamming it into the lock. As the door opened he put his hand on her back and pushed her into the room. When she stumbled, he grabbed her scarf, yanking her upright.

The door hit the wall with a thud. It was even louder after he pushed her through and slammed it shut.

“Way to go, Purvis. You trying to strangle me?” The scarf, wound tight around her neck against the cold pushed against her voice box, making her cough and her voice rough. Mary had never seen him agitated. What reason did he have to be angry? _I am not afraid of Marshall_. But her skin tingled and her nerves jangled.

Reestablishing the control hold on her elbow, he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and dragged her across his lap. Muttering, “you could have been killed, goddammit Mare, think, you’re a goddamn US Marshal, act like one.”

Shocked and surprised by this intense angry Marshall, she didn’t struggle. _Feels strange to be_ _lying over his lap_. She put her hands flat on the floor and tried to get up. Marshall pushed down on the small of her back, holding her in place. He raised his other hand and smacked it down on her jeans clad ass.

“What the hell are you doing Purvis? How is a spanking going to help?” Is he actually going to do this. How could he? She struggled, but he tightens his hold.

Marshall is growling, “they would have sold you, you could have been kidnapped.” Each word is followed by a swat. He manages no more than 5 spanks when Mary has had enough. She lifts her upper body and twists to see him, more curious than distressed.

“Goddamit Marshall. You’re going to hurt your hand,” she exclaimed. “Wasn’t it you who told me that denim is a pretty good insulator?” Maybe this will make him calm down, see reason. _They would have sold me?_

Marshall hand stops in mid air, “Cast iron bitch,”he growls. Without warning he stands up, dumping Mary on the floor. She rolls, lying on her back and lifts herself on her elbows, keeping an eye on this never before seen permutation of Marshall. 

“Nyah,” she answers. “I’m going for Teflon, or maybe Kevlar.

“Not funny, Mare. Not funny.”

She watches him pace in front of the window of their temporary safe haven. He’s muttering angrily. She catches the occasional word - disparaging her intelligence, her sense of self preservation - alternating with the words sold, sex, murder, and dead. The anger trickles out and he begins sniffing moistly repeating loud enough for her to hear the melancholy mantra, “you could have been killed, they would have sold you, you would have wished you were dead.” He pauses, “Hell, if you’d been kidnapped into the sex trade, I would have wished you were dead.”

She remembers the video testimony of a woman rescued from the sex trade. A broken shell with no spark of life. Mary had been hiding from the realization of the horror she escaped. Now Marshall’s fear, sorrow and guilt don’t seem blown out of proportion.

Slowly getting off the floor, she sits on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between her knees. She’s not sure how to approach this volatile Marshall. Waiting. She’d try waiting. It didn’t hurt to sit, the mattress was soft, but her behind was definitely warmer. Marshall’s right palm is bright red. _Bet that stings_. _That old parental saw ‘this hurts me, more than it hurts you,’ is true._

“Marshall? Marsh.” She tries to break through his monologue, which has become a litany of his failure to protect her.

“Sit down,” Mary requests softly. When he doesn’t comply she commands loudly, “Sit down. You’re a target with the room light behind you.” Marshall would have realized that if he wasn’t upset. He does sit then, but not too close.

“Me, a target,” he chides. “Me a target.” Looking straight ahead, he hisses “You are the one they are shooting at, trying to run over and kidnap. If the goons connected to your father don’t get you, Paddy’s sex trade contacts will. Blondes bring premium prices overseas.”

“And how is spanking me, the target, going to work? What was that about?” She really wants to know. It can’t a reaction to the adrenaline high from a dangerous situation. That was over 10 hours ago. She wasn’t even injured. Except for the scratch from Paddy’s knife. She had the situation in hand when he arrived. Although, she admitted, one felon had escaped.

Marshall stands with his hands on his hips, jacket akimbo, eyes like blue diamond chips, looking down at her. “What in the hell did you think you were doing leaving the Marshal’s Annex? What part of being the target don’t you understand? Don’t you know they want to kidnap you _?” How could you leave the safety of the building?_ Underneath she hears _, Why did you leave me?_

His rambling diatribe contains a whole bunch more of How could yous and Why did yous. She has to be the quiet one here. She waits for his verbal vomit to slow and finally stop.

Finally he takes a breath and walks to the bed, sitting down beside her. He pulls her to him in a tight hug. Mary has never been a hugger but she knows this is what he needs and she is willing to give it to him.  

“Was that, the spanking, because you were afraid for me?”

He turns his head to her and yells right into her ear. “Of course I was afraid. Goddamit Mare. You put yourself in danger for no good reason.” Seeing her pull back, he lowers his voice. “It was so damn stupid of you. You’re not stupid Mary. Why did you do it?”

Mary pulls away as far as his grasp would allow, trying to understand what he was asking. Why had she done it? She thought back to that morning when she found Marshall asleep at the computer. After tucking her in the break room, he had gone back to work.

After he abandons the hug, she answered,” When I worked in Jersey, I went to that coffee shop. You’d been up all night. I wanted to surprise you with one of those complicated coffee beverages. I thought you’d like to compare coffee from this place with Albuquerque’s.” She added softly. “That’s all. Really.”

Marshall snorted. “That might have been fine when you worked here, but your mother is missing,” he hissed. “They’ve tried to kill you twice. How many lives do you think you have?”

Mary swallowed and sighed. Marshall was right. She had allowed the memory of the way things used to be to dull her professional paranoia. Being with Marshall, being content, had lulled her into feeling safe. Was her relationship with Marshall affecting her ability to do her job?

“Don’t you get it Mare? How can you not understand? Any time anything bad happens to you, it’s like. . . . it’s like it happened twice as bad to me. If you died, or worse, if they had sold you into the sex trade. . . . I would cease to be me, the Marshall you know. I would spend the rest of my life hunting down those that hurt you.”

She put her arm on around his shoulder, looked him in the eyes and said the two most difficult words, words she never said, “I’m sorry.”

Then she mumbled something that scared him even more than her driving. “I would do the same.”

Marshall pulled her to him, wrapped her in his arms. She placed his head on her shoulder. He nuzzled the shirt under her jacket. She was surprised when it started feeling damp. Marshall was crying. Oh my God.

She gently stood up with him, removed his jacket then hers. “C’mon Marsh, let’s get ready for bed. You’ll feel better.”

She took him into the bathroom, wet the wash cloth and gently wiped the tears from his face. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” He snuffled. When she finished, she handed him his toothbrush, and went to get his pajamas. She heard him blowing his nose while she changed into her sleeping clothes.

When he was finished, she took her turn in the bathroom, then walked to the bed where Marshall lay staring at the ceiling.

Waiting for her to join him in bed he spoke to the ceiling, not looking at her, “I can’t lose you Mare. I can’t.”

“I know.” She responded walking to the bed. “It’s the same for me.” With a quick indrawn breath, she continued “Our jobs are dangerous. I can no more promise to never leave you that way than you can promise me.”

“I know,” Marshall’s small voice answered.

“That is the only way I would ever leave you Marshall,” she assured him. “The only way.”

Marshall lifted the covers. “Come to bed Mare.” With that she turned off the light and crawled into bed. Jinx has been missing 5 days.

 


	10. Contain Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast banter and take down planning. Do they have an idea where Jinx is?

Jinxed – Chapter 10 – Contain Yourself

The first thing Mary noticed when she woke up was that she was cold. Her mind did a quick rundown of what she remembered about where she was. Jersey, winter, snow. Yup, that means cold. But she was warm throughout the night. Cozy even. Eyes still closed, her brain slowly got in gear. Patting the bed next to her she noticed something, make that someone, was missing.

A key grated in the lock. The unmistakeable sound of metal on metal. Her eyes flew open and her hand went to the Glock under her pillow. By the time the door slowly open she had it pointed at the door. And Marshall.

Even though he knew the gun was loaded, Marshall couldn't help but smile at the picture before him. A sleep tousled blonde in a frowzy oversize t-shirt, no bra, and a gun _. Doesn't get hotter than that_. He realized he'd better show her the food and get her to stand down.

Mary lowered the gun and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Now that she was awake, her stomach reminded her of last night's inadequate dinner. Marshall could see the interest spark in her eyes as the smell of bacon wafted out of the bag he was carrying.

"I come bearing gifts. You wouldn't shoot the guy bringing you breakfast would you?"Given their current precarious circumstances, he probably would have had the same reaction _._ Yesterday's attack, their emotion laden discussion, and their failure to find Jinx all weighed heavily on him. But it's Mary's mother. It was Mary who was assaulted. He was determined to lighten her burden, and finally find Jinx. Today.

"Jeez Doofus. Whatever happened to a wake up call?" Mary threw the covers back. Marshall waited, white bags of breakfast in hand, and gazed at Mary. Noticing that he was still standing, staring, she snarked, "Take a picture, Doofus. It will last longer."

 _Great idea._ Breakfast went on the tiny table. Marshall reached for his phone and quickly snapped a photo before Mary realized what he was doing.

"What the hell?" She exclaimed.

"Are you crazy? I just got up, my hair looks like it's been styled with a Mixmaster and you think it's Kodak time?" She threatened, "That better not end up in the locker room or on FaceBook, buddy. If I hear about that photo from anybody but you, I will nail your hide to the WITSEC wall." Marshall checked his phone, smiled at the photo, and put it back in his pocket.

"Here you go, Miss Grumpy Bear." He handed her a cup of coffee.

"Don't call me grumpy bear, damn paparazzi," She replied.

"Since there is only one of me, the correct word is paparazzo," he enlightened her.

Before taking a sip of coffee she groused, "And I should care because. .. . ." Mary combed her hair out of her face and moved to the table cradling her precious caffeine. She took a sip and sat, opening an insulated foam container.

"Once words are used for things they don't mean, the listener becomes confused, and communication becomes obfuscation. In other words, it no longer communicates." Marshall intoned.

"Hey, Mr. Webster, give it a rest already. Just because you are all bright eyed and bushy tailed doesn't mean ..." The rest of the sentence was muffled by a big bite of pancake .

"Ah, no. I'm well aware of your gloomy persona first thing in the morning." Despite her grumpiness, Marshall felt privileged to see Mary before she put on her marshal mask. She was cynical. But in their business, that was a good thing. Paranoia comes with the job and this past week, gave her every reason to be paranoid. Marshall's smile faded as he counted her injuries.

"Don't say persona," she mumbled around a piece of pancake. Marshall liked watching Mary eat. No ladylike tiny bites for his Mary. She ate as she lived, with gusto. Marshall realized he'd better tuck into his own breakfast before Mary got to it.

They ate in silence. Marshall polished off his pancakes, and started on the bacon and eggs. Mary squinted, counting the remaining containers on the table. Once assured he wasn't eating her portion, she returned to demolishing her pancakes, and eggs, and bacon.

Tossing the last empty container into the trash, she sat up, sighed and took a long drink of coffee. "Sugar and caffeine," she sighed. "That's what the world really runs on."

"Technically pancakes are fat, cholesterol and carbohydrates. Syrup is sugar," Marshall corrected.

Mary narrowed her eyes and smirked. "You O.D. on nutrition labels again, Doofus? I told you that's not healthy."

Muttering something that sounded like 'obsessive compulsive' Mary downed the remainder of her coffee, and headed for the bathroom. Marshall was a surprised to hear Mary use the words appropriately. Although he knew he had an insight to her character because of the dreams they shared, there were gaps in his knowledge. Maybe the coarse bitch act was just that, an act. Law enforcement wasn't noted for etiquette. She'd spent a large part of her career being one of the guys. As if her blonde hair and shapely figure could be overlooked by any heterosexual male.

On the way to the Marshal's Annex, Marshall listed the various leads they had developed yesterday. He was certain that Chief Varney or the Newark detective would have enough to plan a course of action for today. Rosco's disappearance must mean something. Missing Roscoe. Missing attacker. Connection?

While waiting for their breakfast take out, Marshall had made a few calls. He needed intel on Lamarko Rosco and the Fuentes gang. He'd asked Eleanor to dig into the Jersey marshals and Newark PD, just in case there was something hinky. He didn't want to believe other law enforcement agencies were crooked. He was just being thorough.

Mary drove to the Marshal Annex, the tires squealing on damp cement of the underground garage. The sound reminded Marshall of their arrival the previous day. This day would be different. This time he swore to not let her out of his sight. This wasn't the time or place for Mary to start being generous and thoughtful. The thought flickered through his brain that she was capable of scheming a way of making sure he always paid for coffee. Nope, not even Mary would go to the extreme of arranging her own kidnapping. Shaking his head, he felt guilty for entertaining that silly notion.  _Focus Mann._

Chief Varney and the Newark gang squad detective were standing around the conference room table when they arrived. Rap sheets, maps and photos were scattered over the surface. The detective was sliding the mug shot of a pockmarked man around, like a puzzle piece. Trying to see where he fit.

Marshall greeted them, "Chief, Detective." Mary looked at them expectantly. "Well?" she paused, took a calming breath, "Anything?"

The detective looked away then looked at her. "Maybe."

"Is that clever cop speak for we got a lead but we don't want to share?" she accused.

"No Mary," Chief Varney interrupted. "It means we have a tip, but the source is unreliable. Sometimes he's got the goods. Other times it's totally bogus."

"What exactly do you have?" asked Marshall.

Detective Ruiz related. "One of my CIs heard from another CI about a kidnapped woman. He claimed to have seen her. He couldn't understand why she was taken. He said she's too old for their customers."

Mary winced at the thought of her mother having 'customers.' She caught Marshall looking as if he'd swallowed a lemon. Exactly how she felt.

Taking a deep breath, Mary asked "Did he have any idea where they took her?"

"No, but in the past his known associates have been seen at the container yard at the port. We're not sure what their connection is. It's not clear whether they are taking stuff out of the containers or putting it in."

She asked. "Have these 'associates' been seen down there this past week?"

"No. There haven't been reports on the gang in that area. We haven't been looking there." Ruiz admitted.

Mary bristled at the thought that all available resources weren't being used to find her mother.

"We realize you have other cases," Marshall reasoned. Mary glared at him for excusing Newark's slacking on her mother's case. She heard a voice in her head that sounded a lot like her partner's.  _Calm down Mary. Treat this as a case. Don't get so riled up_   _you aren't thinking straight_. Mary reviewed what she knew of the gangs before she left for Albuquerque.

"Mary, we have been looking for her. We just didn't know where to look, and until last night, this morning really, we had no reason to look at the port." Chief Varney insisted.

"Chief!" someone called from the bullpen.

"Excuse me," Varney said. The detective looked at the two Albuquerque marshals standing close together. They seemed to be drawing strength from one another. "Be right back."

"They're putting Jinx's kidnapping on the back burner," Mary accused. "They're not . . .They aren't. . .."

"They are working it Mare. They are. Do  **you**  feel guilty for not finding her?" Marshall wondered.

Mary hung her head, allowing her hair to hide her expression. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She did feel guilty. Even worse, she knew she needed their help. She needed to play nice. Be professional, not the distraught daughter of the victim.

Having Marshall beside her calmed her. He was a comfort. She'd never worked with a partner she could count on. Was that making her lose her edge? Was he blunting her ability to think, to hunt?

Seeing the internal war Mary was waging, Marshall said "Mare, you haven't slept more than 4 hours a night for days." She gave him a calculating look. "You sneaky" she paused looking for a suitable term, stifling her usual derogatory slang, "sneak," she accused."You didn't sleep either."

Marshall grimaced. He wanted her to trust him. Quietly, so the detective wouldn't hear, he told her, "I slept. I just woke up whenever you pulled away." He gave her a sly smile. "If you want me to sleep through the night, really sleep, leave my arm around you."

Mary looked away.

"It's normal to feel off your game in this situation." He was careful not to say that she actually was off her game.

"But she's counting on me. I have to figure this out," Mary pleaded.

"She may be counting on you, but I am counting on us. You, me the Marshals and the Newark PD. Got that?"

She nodded.

"You're not alone, Sunshine. Not anymore."

The Chief and the detective returned to the conference room. The Chief had a printout in his hand.

"This is a list of containers owned by a holding company that is connected to Fuentes. These," he pointed to some numbers highlighted in yellow, "are supposed to be empty."

"That's a lot of containers, Chief."

"It's a place to start," Marshall interjected optimistically.

"Is there any connection between the gang and Christopher Lawrence Jeburk, Daniel Evans or Lamarko Rosco?

"That's where it gets tricky," Detective Ruiz interjected. "We know Jeburk worked with the mob. Evans was seen with mobsters from time to time, but we could never prove he worked for them. Rosco's connection is family. His sister married a Gaspare. Her father is an old school don with connections beyond New Jersey. "

"You think the Fuentes gang is working for the mob? Aren't they rivals?" Mary asked.

"In some areas, yes." Ruiz replied "They have clearly marked territories, both geographic and 'product'. The gangs do drugs, the mob does racketeering. Not quite that simple, but you get the idea. Shootouts are bad for business. And there's a detente. They work together when there's something they can both profit from. If it's retrieving the money from Rosco's last heist, or running a new one, they might work together, split the money – or make the other think they will split it."

"Sooo," she drew out the syllable, thinking. "Rosco wants my father, either for the old job, or a new one. He kidnaps Jinx to lure James out in the open. Then Rosco is as dumb as a box of hair." She paused shaking her head. "My father left so he didn't have to put up with Jinx. He'd never sacrifice anything for her."

"What about for you?" Chief Varney asked. Mary looked at him eyebrow raised. "Would your father come out of hiding for you?"

"You mean they took Jinx to lure Mary to Jersey so that they could kidnap her too?" Marshall theorized. "That would explain all the attacks on Mary."

"Leverage." Ruiz replied.

Mary had her head down, her hands resting on the table supporting her weight. She kept running James reactions to her kidnapping. Round and round they went, like a merry go round. He would come out of hiding to ransom her. He wouldn't give a shit and go even deeper underground. Will he. Won't he.

She brought her face up, finding Marshall's eyes focused on her. "I don't know if that would work with him or not. Nothing that's happened to me in 20 years has brought him back. I doubt my kidnapping would."

Mary hadn't forgotten her family drama, but she was applying her skill, her experience and her instincts to the case.  _That's my girl_. "What does the container yard have to do with it?"

"If the gang and Rosco's men are working together, it would make sense to hide Jinx Shannon there."

"If." Mary emphasized. "Do we have any other options? What about that third guy in the alley? Any idea who he is?"

"He might be the link we're looking for. One of the mobsters has a teenage son who likes to trade on his father's position and hang out with the gang. He's been seen with Paddy. Could be our third guy in the alley."

"It would explain the smaller lighter footprints we found," Marshall added.

Mary shrugged. They didn't have anything else, and even though they were missing some pieces, it seemed to fit.

"If we're going to deal with these containers we need more information. Number of containers in the yard. Size. Are some units special, like refrigerator units? Which ones are located where it would be difficult to observe?

"All good questions, Marshall," I don't have any answers, the Chief replied.

Detective Ruiz looked uncomfortable as he grudgingly volunteered, "I have someone that could answer some of those questions. He's not much of a people person, but you," he nodded at Mary. "I know he'd talk to you."

"You mean flash some skin and he'll babble his brains out." She might not use them, but Mary had a realistic idea of her assets where men were concerned.

"I don't mean to offend, Inspector. He's easily distracted. And you would certainly distract him." For someone who looked like a street thug, the detective had manners.

Marshall was uncomfortable with the allusion to Mary's shapely attractiveness. He realized that the detective was being helpful, not discounting Mary's skills. He needed to do whatever it took to find Jinx. If that meant Mary baring a bit of skin, so be it.

"I get it." Mary said. "And where would we find this person?"

"You wouldn't. I'll set up a meet," Ruiz said.

"I'll need a laptop and maps of the container storage area." Marshall requested.

"Nyah. You won't need that," Ruiz assured. "I'll bring you what he can use."

Before they left the room Ruiz added "And bring plenty of pastry and coffee."

After a few phone calls, the meeting was arranged.

Ruiz drove. Marshall went into Amy's and got the required pastry and coffees. He rode shotgun and Mary sat in the back. She chafed at being treated like a witness, but after Marshall's outburst last night she knew it was the right thing to do.

Marshall couldn't help but notice as Mary started undressing in the back seat. She removed her jacket, then her thermal shirt, and unbuttoned two more buttons on her remaining thin knit shirt. She wasn't self conscious about the visibility of her bra. He sighed when she put her jacket back on. The car heater was on but it was still cold. Marshall reminded himself that it was perfectly normal for nipples to peak when cold. He wasn't cold at all. Not now.

They took the stairs up to a dingy apartment with a sturdy door. Ruiz knocked a shave and a hair cut, which amused Mary. The door was opened by a young pasty faced thin man who asked to be called Westly. Marshall quietly acknowledged the source of that name. "The Princess Bride?" 'Westly shyly nodded in the affirmative. Mary hoped the guy would grow into his nose someday.

Mary took off her jacket and they sat around the kitchen table, Mary directly across from Westly. Marshall looked to Ruiz, before handing over the maps and lists of containers they had compiled. Marshall had given Mary a list of questions to ask. She had added a few more. The CI seemed to know everything there was to know about containers and their movements at the port. It was chilly in the room, and the young man wasn't the only one distracted by Mary's assets.

"What we need," said Mary "is a list of containers that can hold several people and haven't moved. That have been in the same place for a month or more." Mary encouraged the young man by standing up and leaning across the table, pointing out the highlighted containers. The young man's eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. Mary sat down and asked question after question. Marshall and even Ruiz asked a few too.

When Marshall determined he had enough information to whittle the huge number of containers down to possibles, they got ready to go. As Mary put on her jacket in the hallway she twitted Marshall "Are you sure you got all that? You seemed pretty distracted."

Ruiz chuckled. Marshall and Westly weren't the only ones distracted.

"You always distract me. Fortunately, I can multitask. The sooner we get back to the Annex the sooner I can plug in these variables and come up with a reasonable number of containers to check."

 


	11. Hide and Seek

Jinxed Chapter 11 – Hide and Seek

Mary was not a patient woman. Having her mother missing, being hit by a truck, shot at, assaulted, and almost kidnapped did nothing for her nerves. She paced the break room waiting for the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force to gather. The task force targets major drug-trafficking and money-laundering organizations, trying to eliminate the financial infrastructure of drug organizations, and investigates all the related parts of the organized crime and gangs. When a previous bank heist was added to the mix, a takedown at the port was a no brainer, and quickly authorized.

Marshall had discovered that the U.S. Attorney’s office had been looking for a reason to breach a gang/mob stronghold. ATF, DEA, ICE and even the Coast Guard would be involved. The Coasties would have ships in the water next to the container terminal. If any rats decided to swim for it, they would get them. All this took time. Too much time as far as Mary was concerned. Marshall watched her pace, wishing she would conserve her energy, wishing there was some way to calm her.

He threatened to entertain her with the history of the OCDETF and got her to sit, hunched over a cup of lukewarm coffee. Marshall had been checking on her in between planning the raid with the PD and Jersey marshals. Once the plans had jelled, he hit the vending machines again and went to the break room. He found Mary staring into space.

“Hey,” he said softly, as he offered her chocolate. He might be a connoisseur of all things edible, but when it came to chocolate, he knew Mary wasn’t picky. When she let the candy bar sit untouched, he asked “Whatcha thinking?”

Mary’s head jerked up. She hadn’t noticed him. Out in the field they were hyper aware of each other. They carefully tracked each other’s location, made sure the bad guys did not have line of sight. They watched each other’s backs. Even back at the office in Albuquerque Marshall wasn’t used to being invisible. 

She cleared her throat and murmured, “Just thinking.”

Marshall waited. If she wanted to tell him she would. “We’ve got about an hour. Briefings scheduled for five.” He put a sandwich and a drink in front of her.

Mary picked at the edges of the plastic wrapping and gave him a watery smile. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “Been thinking about Jinx. I almost never call her mom. Jinx seems to fit better, y’know?” She turned to him, briefly surfacing from her memories. “I’ve mothered her more than she ever did me.”

His heart ached at the thought of a mere child caring for an adult, an alcoholic adult, and a younger sibling. He suppressed a mental snicker. Mary was never a mere anything.

Her eyes were glossy as she asked “Why do I care about her? She spent years not caring for me.”

“Mare, she’s your mother. Humans are wired to respond to their parents, especially their mothers. Your mother carried you for nine months. You carry her cells in your body. 

Mary moaned and rested her head on her crossed arms. Her voice was muffled, but Marshall heard. ”Oh God, you mean I have alcoholic cells doomed to self destruct?” She stopped as she remembered living on soda crackers and peanut butter, cleaning up vomit, and making sure Brandi got her homework done. Turning her head, she confided, “She used to yell at us. She said we had ruined her dancing career. The only talent I saw was her ability to find the next bottle to crawl into.”

“No child should have to do what you did, Mare. But look at all you’ve accomplished. You did it by sheer determination. I know you can’t see it, but somewhere, you developed an indomitable will, an ability to focus on a goal and achieve it.”

She didn’t have to say “Are you nuts?” because her look said it for her.

“Okay, okay. On top of all that you are angry that you had to do it yourself. I get that.” He paused to see if she was taking in what he had to say. “You rail against the injustice of your childhood and injustice in general. The system failed you, and Brandi. And yet here you are, part of the system. Anger fuels you, but it doesn’t direct you,” he whispered fiercely, trying to make his words penetrate. “You choose what you want to do. You chose law enforcement, and not just any law enforcement but the United States Marshals with jurisdiction in all fifty states. That’s a lot of power. A lot of responsibility. You took that on.” 

Mary’s eyes sought his. “Seriously?” Did Doofus really think so highly of her? It had been his idea to get her into WITSEC. He had shown her the ropes, and knew when a witness needed Mary’s pointed advice. His approach –Mary called it killing them with kindness—worked for some, but not all. It was difficult to connect with a witness, know which buttons to push, without getting to know them. Know what made them tick, but not get personally invested. Marshall did it by sticking to the rules. Mary’s defenses were so strong, almost no one got through. He doubted if he would have been allowed in. The dreams they had shared had carved a channel, a Marshall sized door into her heart. 

“Parents set an example for their children. Some show their children what to do; others show them what not to do. You proved to everyone that you were not like your dad.” Sensing she had more than enough to think about, he decided to give her some space. He wanted to give her time to think. To turn that spidey sense on her for once. To give her the opportunity to act, not just lash out.

“And where does my ability to screw up everything come from?

Her deprecating comment made Marshall think he might actually be crazy. Mary defied logic. There was no reasoning with her. He needed to take a different tack.

“Think of Jinx as a witness.”

She rolled her head around, stretching the muscles of her neck. “I guess.”

Marshall had seen how protective Mary was of her witnesses, even the ones with criminal records. If Mary could do for her mother what she was willing to do for a witness, things would work out. When it was over, maybe even her relationship with Jinx would work itself out.

“I’m gonna see how much longer till the task force is ready.” He patted her hand, and left. 

Marshall returned to find Mary in the same position. He had checked with the Chief, getting a quick rundown on the operation. This time she acknowledged him, and watched him sit down. 

“Hmm?” he questioned. He wondered if she had come to some conclusions about herself, her career choice and her parents. 

Mary cleared her throat. “You think I went into law enforcement because it was the opposite of my dad.”

Marshall gave her a sidelong look. “Maybe. It probably wasn’t as simple as that. There might have been a mentor that suggested it. Someone you admired, listened to. ”

Marshall knew he was close to the truth when she muttered Karnack. “What does that have to do with Jinx?” she asked.

“What do you think?”

“No shrink talk. You’re not my shrink.”

“I’m speaking as a friend. A friend who wants the best for you. I can’t tell you, because I don’t know. You have to figure this out for yourself. No one else’s answer will work.” 

He leaned back in the chair, putting his arm on the back of her chair, close but not touching. Letting her know he was here. Making it clear she could bounce ideas off him or cry on his shoulder. Whatever she needed, he’d be there. He never bothered saying it because he knew she would discount the words. He was going to prove it by being there, day after day, month after month, year after year.

Marshall’s phone rang. He turned it so Mary could see Stan’s name on the display. 

“How’s it going?”

“We got a lead, Stan. The AUSA jumped at the chance to raid a suspected drug location. The OCDETF is being assembled as we speak.”

“Kinda late in the day for that sort of operation, isn’t it?”

“Kidnap victim,” Marshall replied succinctly. He could see Stan rubbing the top of his head. Darkness did not preclude a rescue attempt. Marshall hoped they could get to the container yard and check the containers before it got dark.

“Tell Mary I would be there if I could.”

Mary grabbed the phone from Marshall’s hand. “Just keep sitting on our witnesses Stan. You’ve got your hands full with Barton and the Wades.” naming two of their problematic charges. Marshall took the phone back.

“We’ll call you after,” Marshall assured him.

“Thanks dad,” Mary said loud enough for Stan to hear.

The ten pairs of marshals and officers were each given a list containers and a map of the container yard. The containers on each list met all the qualifications sorted out by Marshall’s program. Everyone was suited in black-- Kevlar vests and helmets, dark pants and jackets. Mary hated the helmets. They never fit right and the strap reduced her peripheral vision. At a time and place where she needed all her awareness, the helmet was a distraction. 

When Marshall noticed she hadn’t fastened the strap under her chin, he finished checking his Glock, and did it for her. Mary was annoyed, but the look in his eyes told her he was doing it for his peace of mind. She released a breath as he ran his finger under the strap, making sure it wasn’t too tight. “There ya go.”

She nodded accepting his attention which she would have called coddling from anyone else. Marshall wasn’t done. He checked the fit of her vest, pulling the sides up and tightened the fasteners. She grunted as the vest forced air from her lungs. “Too tight?” Marshall asked. Mary stepped back, jumped up and down, settling her flesh inside the bullet proof shell.

What’s sauce for the goose, she thought, checking the fasteners on his vest. She ran her finger under the strap of his helmet continuing around his ear. “Mare, not now.” When she didn’t stop fondling his ear he bent down looking in her eyes, “Please.”

“Ok gorgeous George, you’re good to go.” Mary finished checking his equipment and smacked him on the ass. The potential of a hot encounter always got her hot and bothered. “I’ll be sure to check out your equipment,” she emphasized the last word, “When this is over.”

“Enough letter agencies to make alphabet soup,” Mary noted. Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms, Drug Enforcement, Immigration and Customs. The Coasties were on the water already. The briefing covered who they were looking for, which bad guys they might find, what the bad guys might do. Mary and Marshall were relieved to see that Chief Varney was running the show. He warned them to be careful, and ended with “The kidnap victim is the mother of one of our own. This is personal. Make it good.”

As the briefing broke up, the Kevlar clad marshals and officers headed for the garage and the black bus for the ride to the port. It looked like the party bus from hell. Mary and Marshall sat at the front near the Chief and other marshals. Mary nodded at the few she knew from FTF. She was glad to have competent door kickers along.

It was late afternoon with no promise of sun any time soon. Clouds scuttled across the sky promising snow. Mary felt as grey as the day. She was anxious to get moving, but nervous about what they would find. If they would find anything, anyone. Her knee bounced, a nerve jangled metronome. Marshall put his hand on her knee stilling the motion and gave her a reassuring look.

Mary was silent during the ride to the port. Marshall had his phone out, checking his email. He showed Mary the message he was sending Stan. Stan wanted to be part of the action which they all hoped would end with the rescue of Jinx.

Arriving at the port, the officers and marshals swarmed off the bus, gathering for final instructions. Two by two they stealthily left the assembly point to inspect their assigned containers.

Mary and Marshall sidled between containers making as little noise as possible. After a half hour checking numbers and locating containers they had the routine down. Marshall knew routine was dangerous. They needed to stay alert. After checking several containers, Mary was frustrated. She held up the map looking for their next container. Marshall kept watch, peering around corners, checking above them. It would be easy for a gang boy to climb to the roof of the container and get a bead on them.

He had caught Mary scanning the roofs of the warehouses and cargo ships that surrounded the port. “SWATs on this run,” he reminded her. They’re up in the cranes, keeping an eye on the entire area. Mary nodded her approval, but stayed focused on finding their next container. Four containers later, Mary announced, “This sucks.”

“C’mon Mare. You know catching the bad guys is mostly grunt work, like this.” Marshall’s nerves were strained too. If this didn’t pan out they didn’t have a plan B. No one did. There were several large gaps in the suppositions that led them here. Marshall was surprised the judge had issued the warrant based on the evidence they had.

“God Marshall, they could be killing her right now.” She shook with frustration. She stopped her loping trot, and cocked her head to the right. 

“What?” Marshall whispered.

She motioned him to be quiet and then looked at him, a question on her face. “Hear that?” she whispered. Marshall heard a sound too. It sounded like someone throwing up their toe nails.

Mary grimaced, thinking it sounded a lot like Jinx. She had heard her often enough. She nodded at Marshall and he gestured to her phone. She sent a text to the team. While they waited they split up and walked around the container, checking the top and sides. Marshall checked the shipping container doors, and motioned to Mary to stand aside. He sprayed lubricant on the latches and metal rods of the door so they could open it quietly, without warning anyone inside, and began repeat performance on the door latches on the other end.

When she moved toward the door, Marshall grabbed her arm hard enough to spin her around. He motioned her to wait. Marshall kept an eye on her as he worked on the remaining latches. After slowly slipping the latch handles up, poised to open, they waited for the others to arrive.

When Chief Varney and a handful of marshals and officers appeared, Mary gestured impatiently toward the unlatched doors. The Chief put a hand on her arm, nodding in the negative. Mary gave him a questioning look. He jerked his chin in the direction of a black clad officer with what Mary was sure was a stethoscope. He placed it gingerly on the side wall of the container, repeating the process until he had done the same on every side. 

Nodding in the affirmative, he pointed to the end opposite where they stood. Mary knew that meant someone was in there. She hoped it was Jinx. The officer wasn’t done yet. He placed the device at the end of the container opposite the door and held up three fingers. At least three different people could be heard inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Marshals are part of the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force. It also includes the IRS. I didn’t think accountant types would be along for the raid.


	12. Fire in the Hole

Jinxed Redux Chap 12 – Fire in the Hole

Afterwards Marshall recalled what he had heard about Mary’s time in FTF. She liked to keep her hands near the fire. If there was a chance of a shootout, she was there. At the front, closest to the action. Her Chief had given up assigning her anywhere else. Her instincts had kept her alive this long, but this trip had seen instinct fail to keep her safe.

***

At the container yard, Mary paced as they waited for the signal. Three thugs inside, twenty armed officers outside. Seemed like good odds to Mary. What in the hell were they waiting for? _And where in the hell did the Boy Scout get that oil spray from?_ The chance to use her Glock on more than paper targets always nerved her up. Not in a bad way. Just the opposite. She never felt sharper, more alive, more aware, and more alert than when guns came out to play.

 

Varney split the group. Half at each end of the container. Marshall and Mary at the north end. Once everyone was in place, the signal was given, and the latches were thrown.  The doors screeched open and Kevlar covered officers poured in. The pounding of boots on the metal floor of the dark container was punctuated by shouts of “get down, on the ground, now, now.” From the north door the backs of several men could be seen, peering over tall wooden crates, aiming at the south door. They suddenly realized both ends of the container were open. Three turned and started shooting.  Mary spotted a woman with dark hair on a cot behind the crates near the container wall. She ran and dove low to throw her body over the woman. The officers returned fire. Marshall’s heart stopped when Mary was caught in the crossfire.

 

He saw a bullet hit her. _No, no_. She landed on the floor next to the cot. He saw her reach up, and grab the woman around the waist. He was relieved her injury didn’t prevent her from tipping the wood and canvas cot, dumping the ragdoll of a woman onto the floor next to her. He heard Mary grunt as she got up on hands and knees and covered the woman with her body.

 

The pace of gunfire picked up and Marshall couldn’t watch Mary. He and the others were careful to get the bad guys, caught in the middle, and not one of their own on the other side. Five men, five gang bangers went down. As soon as they hit the floor, Marshall ran to Mary.

 

“It’s Jinx,” Mary told him. “I’ve got her.” She sobbed in relief just as the shooting began again. This time from outside the container.  “What the hell?” Mary was afraid she’d crush the thin woman under her. She tried raising up again only to have her left arm give out. She settled for lying on her side, forming a human barricade.

 

The officers had the thugs disarmed and handcuffed. Those that could stand were cuffed to tie down racks on the walls. There were tie downs on the floor for the rest. When the shooting outside started, they were able to close the door at one end, but the other remained open. Getting out of this alive would take a while. The gang had come calling. Marshall saw the Chief yelling over his two way for SWAT and SOG.

 

Evening had arrived. The grey outside easing to black with bright blossoms of muzzle flashes. It was dark inside the container. It made Marshall think of Rembrandts the Night Watch. Except without the lanterns. He clicked on his headlamp and went to check Mary and Jinx.

 

“Mary!” he crouched next to the two women. “Let me see.” He knew she had caught a bullet, but jacked up on adrenaline, she didn’t seem to realize it.

 

“I’m ok, Doofus. Check Jinx. The vest caught the bullet.” Mary couldn’t understand why he needed to check her. With the firefight continuing, and medical personnel not coming any time soon, Marshall was the next best thing. Besides she hadn’t gotten to fire her gun. Yet.

 

“Really? Because I’m seeing blood Sunshine.” Since Mary was breathing and giving orders, the injury couldn’t be too bad. He knew adrenaline can affect one strangely. He needed to be sure the severity of her injury wasn’t being masked.

 

She sat up. “What? Where?” She craned her head around, looking down at the vest. She turned her back to him as she ran her hands down her sides. One hand came away red.

 

He gently lifted her arm to see that there was a small teardrop shaped hole in the sleeve. A round had clipped her underarm. It didn’t look too bad. She hissed as he gently felt her arm to make sure the bullet had gone through and through. No lump. Good.

 

“Just bullet burn. I’ve had worse shaving my pits,” she insisted. From somewhere in one of the many pockets on his flak vest, he pulled a strip of white cloth. She winced as he pulled her arm straight and started wrapping it around the hole. The cloth quickly developed a red spot. Marshall added a large band aid and more cloth wrap. He stopped when it stayed white.

 

All that took less than a minute. That was still too long for Mary. Bullets continued to whine and hit the container. It was her mother that concerned her. The thin dark haired woman hadn’t moved since being so rudely tossed to the floor. _Did I make her worse? Did she hit her head?_

 

“Marshall. Check her. How is she, Marshall?”

 

Marshall heard the distress in her voice as he knelt beside the woman. He didn’t see any bruises. At least her face, hands and feet did not appear to have cuts or black and blue marks. He touched Jinx’s face, no fever. He ran his hands over her collar bone and down her arms and legs. He looked down and checked her feet before giving his assessment. “She’s unconscious, dehydrated, and malnourished. No broken bones. Judging by the empty whiskey bottles, they kept her sedated.”

 

“Oh Mom” Mary whispered. “Just one nonstop unhappy hour.” She knew a diet of alcohol could be deadly and wished Marshall had a stomach pump in one of his vest pockets. He seemed to have everything else.

 

“What’s going on?” she jerked her head to indicate outside. She was hearing gunfire. Lots of gunfire. That wasn’t part of the plan.

 

“It appears this was a set up. They have us pinned down. SWAT’s doing what they can, but it’s getting dark.” Marshall gestured toward Chief Varney. He was talking, yelling actually, on his two way radio, but seemed frustrated.

 

Mary and Marshall winced as a barrage of rounds hit the container. A line of bumps magically appeared on the side wall. None of the rounds penetrated, but everyone moved away from the walls. Except the bad guys who were tethered there.

 

“Marshall, help me get her to the middle. Find some cover.” Mary was determined to keep Jinx safe. After all, as Marshall had reminded her, Jinx was the only mother she had. And, if she remembered anything, she could even become a witness. That wasn’t Mary’s call, but she needed to do everything she could to protect Jinx.

 

The container had a wooden crates, odd boxes and trash. There was an old metal desk the gang had been using as a dinner table. Marshall dumped the plates on the floor as he flipped the desk on its front. Mary dragged Jinx to the desk. Just a few feet, but the need to stay low and the fact that her mother couldn’t help, had her gasping. Marshall grabbed her mother under the knees and folded her into the knee space.

 

Marshall pulled out the metal drawers and stacked them like Stonehenge behind Mary and Jinx. Mary stayed close to her mother but chafed at missing the action. She appreciated the additional barrier between Jinx and the rain of bullets, but felt helpless, useless. And Marshall was exposed, in danger.

 

“Get in here Doofus,”

 

“No. No room. Take care of her. I’ll take care of you.” Marshall remained crouched behind her, checking on the officers behind him and facing the remaining open door. Glock at the ready his head swiveled like a searchlight.

 

Anguish laden she asked, “What do I do?” Realizing she needed to clarify, Mary added, “What can I do for her.”

 

Without looking at her, Marshall silently handed her a water bottle and whispered “Just wet her lips.” He remained vigilant. Watching her back. Mary heard him fire his gun followed by an oof from the doorway. She imagined bodies piled in front of the doorway like cord wood, and approved. They would make an effective barrier.

 

Mary dribbled some water on her mother’s mouth. She used her hand to gently wipe her face. Jinx’s eye lids fluttered. Mary held her breath. Her eyes opened slowly, her head turning from side to side. “Mary,” she croaked. “What are you doing here?”

 

“What does it look like? The cavalry is riding to your rescue. Only they kinda got waylaid.” Mary was grateful her mother had come around but she didn’t want to upset her. She hoped Jinx thought the bullets were from some giant popcorn machine or a nearby firing range. “How are you feeling?”

 

Jinx startled as a bullet made a loud noise as it dented the container wall. “What, . . . .what was that?”

 

“Like I said, the rescue team is on its way. There are just a few bumps in the road to iron out.” Mary stroked her mother’s matted hair gently. She wondered if her mother was cold with only a thin blanket between her and the floor.

 

Marshall snorted at Mary’s attempt to make light of their situation. That would only work if Jinx was still drunk. Which he admitted, she might be. He hoped so, for Mary’s sake. Her mother would be easier to handle and less likely to freak out if she was still inebriated.

 

“Marsh,” she called. “You got a blanket on you?” She couldn’t see where he could hide one, but with Doofus, she never knew. His vest seemed to have more pockets than hers. She wondered why that was. Instead of unzipping a pocket, he reached for the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a thin silver square.

 

“Try this.”

 

The silver square unfolded and became a thin shiny layer to hold in body heat. Mary gingerly laid it over Jinx and tucked it around her getting it as far under her as she could.

 

“How are you feeling, Mom?”Eyes rolling in fear, Jinx managed to focus on Mary’s face and croak, “Thirsty.”

 

Mary put her hand under Jinx’s neck and placed the water bottle near her mouth. “Small sips, Mom, small sips.” She didn’t relish cleaning up vomit in the tiny space. Thank goodness Doofus had a water bottle along. Damn, Boy Scout, she thought admiringly. Always prepared _._

 

Mary was grateful. She couldn’t remember ever having someone she could count on. Doofus seemed to know what she would need even when she herself didn’t. After a few swallows, Mary gently put Jinx’s head back down, and looked to see what Marshall was up to.

 

“What the hell happened?” The racket of small arms fire tapered off, followed by a heavy silence inside the container.

 

Since entering the container her world had shrunk to Marshall and her mother. Her mother’s face was pale and smeared. The remains of her mascara making her look like a Goth. Her eyes were closed, but Mary could see her chest rising and falling. “Take it easy. We’ll be out of here soon,” she promised.

 

Marshall got up and walked to where the others were gathered. Chief Varney was on his two way, getting the 411 on their situation. The gun fire had stopped. Marshall turned to check on Mary and had his back to the still open door.

 

When Mary saw Marshall turn away from the door, she got her Glock, watching the open door. A gang banger pointed his gun into the container. She aimed, fired and the guy went down, clutching his leg. Mary felt a grim satisfaction at finally firing her gun, and getting a bad guy.

 

A marshal she recognized from the Annex rushed toward her. “Inspector,” he commended. He ducked outside, and secured the gang banger. He told Mary “They’re still mopping up. We should get the all clear soon. Chiefs got a bus coming. EMTs too. This was definitely an ambush.” He peeked into their impromptu fortress and asked, “That your mother?”

 

“Yes,” Mary replied. “Jinx Shannon, in the flesh, and not too much the worse for wear. She’ll need the medics though.”

 

Jinx roused and looked up as the shadowed face of one officer was replaced by another with a light on his forehead. Maybe she had been taken by aliens. But no, that was Mary’s face Mary’s voice. She knew her own daughter. “Mom, this is my partner, Marshall.” Jinx’s confusion clouded eyes focused and she whispered. “Marshal Marshall, she croaked. “I remember.” Without warning her eyelids slammed shut as Jinx fainted.

 

“We need a bus, Marshall. She needs a hospital.” Mary had never seen Jinx so lifeless. It scared her to think her Mother had survived the kidnapping and might die here in this hell hole. Mary looked around, checking on the others, anxious to get out of here.

 

“How many of ours were hit?” Marshall asked the other marshal.

 

“Two down that I saw. Jace and I pulled them into the container. If I was sure it was OK to move them I’d bring them back here.”

 

“I’ve got some training in that area. You keep watch here, and I’ll go see if there’s anything I can do,” he offered. He looked at Mary, making sure she was OK with him leaving. Mary looked concerned, but sent him off with “Go for it, Boy Scout.” She knew his medical training could save a life. In her book, he’d already saved Jinx.

 

The container was big enough that she lost sight of him between the gloom, the crates and the other task force members. After one last pop of gunfire, a bullhorn voice demanded that weapons be thrown down “On the ground, NOW.”

 

The bullhorn repeated “Drop your weapons. Get on the ground. On the ground now.”

 

Mary felt the phone in her left hand vibrate. The task force requesting all members check in. Mary responded giving their names and container number and said they needed a bus. “We’ve got Jinx Shannon. Repeat. We have Jinx Shannon, she’s alive.”

 

As the remaining combatants were handcuffed and placed under arrest, the uninjured task force members directed the EMTs to their fallen comrades. “The debriefing is going to be fun,” Mary commented. “But you won’t be there.” Marshall told her looking at Jinx.

 

“Oh, yeah. Right.” As much as she wanted to hear the details of what had just happened, she knew she needed to stay with Jinx. Protect her. Look after her mother, just like she always did.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll fill you in. As soon as the debrief is done I’ll come to the hospital. Okay?” He needed Mary to be okay with this arrangement. As much as he hated to leave the medical staff at her tender mercies, she needed to go with her mother. Eyes still on Jinx, she nodded. “Leave a little skin on the medical staff, pumpkin.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll play nice,” she assured him. Under her breath he thought she muttered disgustedly, “That’s all I do since I met you.”

 

Mary got in the ambulance with Jinx. Marshall went the Annex on the party bus. The party of 20 was smaller on the ride back. As before Marshall sat next to Varney. “Chief, what in the hell happened?”

 

“The details of the operation were leaked.” Chief Varney said grimly.”The real question is who. With so many agencies involved, it’s hard to tell.”

 

Marshall had been thinking about this since hearing the first shots fired outside the container. “Did it seem to you that it was too easy, too quick to get the authorization for this roundup?”

 

“I was told the DOJ had been looking for a reason to bust a gang operation. This seemed to be it. Made it seem like a logical move, an unexpected opportunity.” Varney reasoned. “Made sense at the time. But I was surprised at how quickly we were given the go ahead. With a kidnap victim, the rush seemed right.”

***

There wasn’t much new information available at the debriefing. Four task force members had been shot. Marshall was relieved that none of the injuries was life threatening. He reported the bullet Mary took which brought the number injured to five. They were still counting and processing the gang bangers who had been injured. At least five were dead. Marshall left the debriefing still puzzling over the ambush. Who would have used Jinx for bait to shoot a bunch of law enforcement? Was it planned? Or coincidence? Had the gang learned where Jinx was and decided to confront the task force coming to rescue her? It didn’t make sense. Who was pulling the strings on their operation?

 

Resigned that the mystery wouldn’t be solved without more information, he headed to the hospital and Mary.

 

He found her leaning against the wall, arms crossed, outside Jinx’s room. Nurses and orderlies were bustling about inside. Mary looked tired, drawn and relieved. “How are you doing,” he asked.

 

Her head came up, drinking in the sight of her personal protector, her boy scout. “Me?” she questioned. Why was he asking about her?

 

“Have you had that looked at yet?” pointing to the white cloth still wrapped around her arm.

 

“What? Uh no. It wasn’t bothering me and the EMTs needed to focus on Jinx. We just left the ER.

“How is she?” Marshall inquired. He’d barely gotten a glimpse of the woman in the dark container. Hell of a way to meet your future mother in law.

 

“Like you said, dehydrated, underfed. They put n IV to rehydrate her and threatened to feed her inconveniently.”

 

“That’s intravenously,” Marshall corrected.

 

“Whatever. She kept down a sip of some sort of broth, something. I couldn’t tell.”

 

“Yeah, they’ll start her off with liquids. Did they pump her stomach?”

 

“No. Bit late for that. She was running on empty.” It made Mary sad to see her mother in such poor condition. Jinx could be quite vivacious, full of smiles even when not full of booze.

 

Mary poked her head into the room. The hospital staff was gathering their equipment, preparing to leave. Mary saw her mother, resting, eyes closed. She motioned Marshall over as she questioned one of the nurses. She was grateful for her own personal doctor speak interpreter. When they were alone in the room, Marshall said “Jinx is on her way to a full recovery. Rest, fluids and eventually solid food. She can be released in 2-3 days.”

 

At the news that Jinx could be leaving the hospital soon, Mary looked alarmed. “Is she safe?”

 

She went to the door checking the hall and saw two burly officers walking toward them. When they stopped at Jinx’s room she stared at Marshall, eyebrow raised in query.

 

“Inspector Shannon.” The blonde of the pair addressed her. She thought they looked like tweedle dee and tweedle dum, one brown hair, one blonde. Their uniforms looked authentic. Seeing her hesitation, they produced their badges, smoothly in tandem as if the move had been performed many times. If they were the real deal, it would have been.

 

“Marshal Hobbs and Marshal Merritt. We’ve been tasked to provide protection.”

 

“Yeah? Who sent you?” Marshall was glad to see Mary’s paranoia return. They were going to need it.

 

“Chief Varney and Chief McQueen requested the security detail.” Well that tracked, she thought.

 

“You think Jinx Shannon is still in danger?” she hadn’t thought beyond Jinx’s rescue.

 

“No mam.” What’s with the maam, she wondered. _I really am getting old if these wet behind the ears marshals were mam-ing her._

 

Before she could retort, Marshall asked “Who _are_ you here to protect.”

 

Taking in Marshall’s presence for the first time, the blonde marshal answered “Inspector Mary Shannon.”

 

Mary’s first thoughts were I can take care of myself. Then she remembered Paddy and the attack in the alley. Maybe for once, she could use some help. After all that’s why she had a partner. But she didn’t really need these deputies.

 

Marshall derailed her train of thought by announcing ,“Inspector Shannon needs to go to the ER first. Gentlemen would one of you accompany us. The other can stay here, keep an eye on Jinx Shannon.”

 

Blonde and brown hair traded looks. The blonde nodded and asked “Were you injured Inspector.”

 

Mary opened her mouth to deny it, but Marshall said, “She was nicked in two places. She needs to be checked out.”

 

Mary refrained from cussing him out in front of the two newbies, but asked “Two? What do you mean two. Where’s the other one?” she demanded, daring him to lie about her injuries.

 

“Your right ear has been dripping into your hair. Bright color hair streaks are quite fashionable, but really not your style.” He looked to her for agreement. Despite the helmet, a bullet had found its way to her upper ear. The helmets purposely fit around the ear, not over it, but Mary hadn’t been wearing the protective ear muffs when she dove through the crossfire.

 

“Wait, what? Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?”

 

“There wasn’t time. C’mon. Let’s get you and your escorts to the ER.” Marshall felt his answer should have been it wasn’t time. She was functioning just fine. Her attention needed to be on protecting Jinx. He didn’t think she would focus on her own injuries, but he’d seen odd behavior in gun battles, especially after the shooting stopped. He prayed he’d made the right call.

 

“Can’t you stay with JInx?” She would feel better if her own bad ass lawman was looking in on her mother. After all, he could double as patient advocate.

 

“No can do, Sunshine.” Marshall felt that the threat to Jinx was reduced if not gone. He was sure Jinx had been kidnapped to lure Mary to Jersey. Anyone who knew Mary from her days in FTF would have predicted that she would come alone. Easy pickings.

 

No way he was leaving Mary’s side.


	13. Recup and Regroup

Jinxed – Chap 13 –Recup and Regroup

 

Marshal Hobbs and Marshall had gotten a griping Mary to the ER. She protested loudly about how unnecessary it was while the doctor examined her ‘scratches.’

“You are fortunate, Inspector. Another half inch and you’d have nerve damage that would make holding a gun difficult.” Mary didn’t like to be treated by doctors who prattled on and on. She had Marshall for that.

“This doesn’t seem like much now,” the doctor continued. “No stitches necessary. If you hadn’t gotten effective treatment it would have become infected.” The doctor emphasized. “Secondary infection can be worse than the initial insult.”

Mary thought she understood, but wanted to be sure. “Never thought of a bullet as an insult.”

“Depends on where it’s aimed.” Marshall retorted.

“Ok, all done.” The doctor reported. He finished wrapping a bandage around her arm. Mary flexed it and found that the stretchy bandage allowed the full range of movement. She had refused a topical anesthetic. The doctor turned to Marshall. “She needs to keep the wound clean. Change the dressing twice a day to start, then once a day as it begins to scab. Use the antiseptic cream generously. Really...”

“Right here doc!” Mary growled incensed by the doctor’s assumption that Marshall would be her caregiver, even if it was true.

“Mare, cut it out. You know you never remember the aftercare instructions. Don’t worry,” he assured the doctor. “I’ll make sure to use antiseptic several times a day. I’ll bring her in if she develops a fever or the wound becomes red, hot or swells.”

“Someone was paying attention during first aid.” The doctor congratulated Marshall.

“Suck up,” Mary accused, pulling down the sleeve of her shirt. She picked up her black leather jacket and put her little finger through the hole. “Damn. I just got this broken in.”

“Injuries can make one a bit edgy and combative,” the doctor explained to Marshall.

“No.” Marshall said flatly. :”She’s pretty much always like this.” The smile in his voice took the sting out of the truth he spoke. Mary only glared at him. On the scale of Mary threats, this was pretty low. Marshall took it as a sign of acceptance.

“C’mon Mare. Let’s check on Jinx and then get out of here. You’re cranky and I’m tired.”

 Mary snorted. “According to you, I’m always cranky.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” He agreed.

Once Mary was satisfied with the armed guard at her mother’s room, they left the hospital. She had worked with Marshal McLuhen in FTF and trusted him to do the job. Not like she trusted Marshall, but since all he had to do was protect one frail woman in a hospital bed, McLuhen could handle it. She was still nerved up from gunplay, and Marshall had to apologize to McLuhen for her belittling outburst. As the daughter of a victim, and a target herself, McLuhen cut her some slack. 

Mary wasn’t the only one wound up from the firefight. She could see the strain in the wrinkles around his eyes and the way he held onto her uninjured arm-- a little too tight. He walked faster than usual and startled at unexpected sounds. Usually he sauntered. Because he was taller than Mary, she had to hustle to keep up even when his own stride was leisurely. Mary knew from experience that even when he looked relaxed, he was still paying close attention to their surroundings. Today his alertness doubled.

Mary’s thoughts darted every which way. Why the ambush? Should she stay at the hospital with Jinx? Was Brandi safe? Was her father involved? Amid the roiling chaos of case related stuff she couldn’t help but think about whether or not Marshall remembered her promise to check out his equipment tonight. She told herself that was trivial, stupid, but her body said otherwise.

She knew gun-play took a toll emotionally. Physically she was fine. Her ear had stopped bleeding and the underarm nick was just that. Normally she thrived on the rush from a firefight. Before Marshall there was never anyone in danger she cared about. She never thought about being in harm’s way herself. Her sole focus was getting the bad guys. This time she had two people to worry about – her mother and Marshall. She couldn’t stand the thought of him exposed and vulnerable during the assault on the container. She was supposed to be protecting his back, but her mother had taken priority. Just like a witness. But for some reason, this was different. She felt guilty for abandoning Marshall.

Marshall was keeping a careful eye on Mary. She had gotten shot. She didn’t seem to be hurting. He knew there was nothing he could have done to stop her from stepping in front of a bullet. Like the WITSEC marshal she is, Mary focused on her mother. Marshall had focused on the men with the guns. Mary spotted Jinx before he did, and acted accordingly. There should have been something he could have done to keep her safe, to keep her from being shot. Logically, he knew trying to direct Mary was like harnessing a wild fire. It would go wherever there was fuel. Despite her disparaging remarks about her mother, Jinx was Mary’s fuel.

The marshals assigned to Mary directed them to a black SUV parked in the hospital loading dock. Although it was standard issue for the Marshal Service, it’s resemblance to the SUV that had pursued them days ago made her shiver. She told herself that it was the adrenaline. Marshal Merritt checked the garage, opened the back door, and hustled Mary into the car. Marshall followed. “So this is what it’s like back here.” Mary commented. “I don’t think I’ve ever ridden back here. Have you Doofus?”

Marshall’s cheeks pinked at her use of the derogatory nickname in front of the other marshals. Mary saw his reaction and piped up, “You know Doofus is really another way of saying bad-ass. Those western marshals have their own words for stuff like that.”

Neither Merritt nor Hobbs reacted. Marshall put his head down, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair.  _Oh no. You’ve really_ _done it this time_ . Mary was sure she had compounded her offense when she saw his shoulders shaking. When she reached out to console him, to apologize, she saw he was trying not to giggle like a girl.

She smacked him on the shoulder and said “there ya go.” Marshall turned toward her with tears in his eyes. His grin assured her they were tears of laughter. Seeing him trying to control himself got her started. Soon they were cackling, setting off new waves of laughter by blurting out one or two words that wouldn’t have made any sense to anyone else. Their shared dreams and memories were a language made for two.

Wiping her eyes, Mary looked out the window and panicked.” Where the hell are you taking us? This isn’t the way to Woodson’s.” Marshall seemed unperturbed, head resting on the seat back, relaxed by the release provided by their hilarity.  _What the hell?_

When neither of the marshals in the front seat responded, she yelled “Hey deMerritt! Are you lost?” He studiously ignored her.

Finally, Marshall took pity on her. “No Mary, he’s not lost.”

She squinted and looked at him from the corner of her eyes. Marshall thought she would look at a piece of gum stuck to her shoe that way. She could tell he had something up his sleeve. Something he hadn’t bothered to share with her.

“Ok numnutz lets have it.” She was careful this time to speak softly. She was concerned that the letdown after the gun fight could turn into hysteria. She definitely did not want to lose her cool in front of the others. She didn’t want a hysterical Marshall on her hands either. He seemed calm now, but she knew appearances could be deceiving.

“While you were at the hospital, Chief Varney made security arrangements. We are going to a hotel.”

She snorted.” So do I get to room with tweedle dee or tweedle dum?”

Seeing that she was being playful, he responded. “Neither,” he informed her dryly. “Your person will be guarded by none other than the one bad ass cowboy lawman with the redundant name.”

“Don’t say redundant.” She muttered. Turning her head to face him so quickly her hair flew in a circle around her head, she said, “Wait. That would be you?” She smiled, approving the idea. Whispering conspiratorially she asked, “How many marshals did you have to bribe to swing that arrangement cowboy?”

“WITSEC protocol will be followed,” he informed her drily.” There will be marshals stationed on either side of our room.” When transporting a witness, one kept watch in the room with the witness.  Once relieved, the off watch marshal went to the adjoining room to sleep. On those runs there could be another marshal or two next door or directly across from the witness room.

Realizing they would be surrounded by law enforcement at the hotel, she groaned and muttered. “No nookie tonight.”

“We’ll see.”She looked at him sharply and noted his cat that ate the canary look.  _What has he planned?_

“If you gag me, we might be quiet enough.” She teased in a rasping sexy voice. His body responded before his brain, but he managed to keep his mouth shut till his brain caught up.

“I think there’s been enough of that.” Marshall was thinking of her almost kidnapping.

Mary saw that the Marriott Courtyard was a block from the Marshal’s office building. It made sense to stash them there. Merritt and Hobbs brought the SUV through the delivery entrance, stopped, and followed them out of the vehicle. Mary said loudly, “My pj’s are back at Woodson’s. I’ll have to sleep nude tonight.”

Marshall’s rolled his eyes but anyone could see the bright interest in them. Merritt ignored her taunt. “Your bags are in your room.” Marshall snapped his fingers. “Darn.” Hobbs continued to ignore their antics as they got in the service elevator.

Arriving at their floor, Merritt threaded the way through utility corridors to their room, and opened the door.  The room was nicer than their usual on the road accommodations. Two king size beds. Coffee, TV and alarm clock. Mary sighed and sat on the bed closest to the bathroom. Handing Marshall the room key cards, Merritt said he would be next door and left.

“Tired?” Marshall asked solicitously. Despite the energy displayed at the hospital and on the ride over, he knew she had to be tired. She looked wilted, collapsed in on herself.

“Mmmm yeah,” she stretched her back and neck, putting her arms over her head. Her jacket was open and Marshall enjoyed watching her supple body. Suddenly she sat up straight. “Brandi, oh my god. Brandi. Does she know Jinx is safe?”

“Calm down Mare. Yes, she does. I had Stan arrange a secure line.” He said. “She knows.”

“Did you run a threat assessment?”

“Varney had one of his guys do it. I looked it over. Really Mare, she’s OK. You should talk to her.”

Mary checked the battery on her burn phone and dialed. Brandi answered on the second ring. “Mare, Mary, are you ok? How’s mom? What happened?”

Mary told her Jinx was recovering and getting good care. She gave her a sanitized version of the rescue. Marshall could tell when Brandi started to blubber because Mary rolled her eyes. She closed the conversation with a reminder to be alert and to call the Jersey marshals if she left Joanna’s.

When she finished the call to Brandi, Marshall thrust his phone in her face. She saw Stan’s name on the display. “Hey dad, you call to tuck us in? Got a bedtime story for us?”

She could see Stan fluster and rub his head, walking as he talked. Actually, Stan was relieved to hear her joking. She was ok, Jinx was ok, and Marshall was Marshall. He was always ok.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. Yeah, well two scratches. I’m fine. I can shoot with that arm and nobody has to cut my steak for me,” she assured him.

He did have a story for them. A possible lead on who leaked the operation to the gangs. Eleanor had come through again. Mary thanked Stan, let out a long breath, and handed the phone back to Marshall. Stan would be sending some encrypted files.

“Hungry?” Marshall asked. After Stan’s call, Mary hadn’t moved. She sat on the bed staring at the blank TV screen still wearing her leather jacket.

“Not really. I don’t like having my food repeat on me.” She looked tired and jittery. Marshall felt the same, but he needed something in his stomach.

“You mind if I order something?” Marshall didn’t want to cause her any distress.

“Nyah. Go ahead. You should eat. Just because I’m off my feed doesn’t mean you should be.” Marshall realized this was magnanimous on her part. She really did care about him. But Marshall was a realist so he ordered extra fries.

Soon the serving cart and dishes were sitting in the hall. Mary had attempted to steal his fries, but Marshall could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

“I was so scared,” she confided.

“That’s ok Mare. It’s normal to be afraid during hot operations. Keeps you alert, keeps you safe.”

“I  . . . .I didn’t have your back. I should have been there for you. You could have ...” Mary gulped. He was touched by her fear that he would be injured.

“Mare, you did exactly the right thing. Your actions were text book. You protected Jinx. You did good, Sunshine.” He sat next to her on the bed and reached his hand out to caress her cheek.

“You think so?” She raised her bleary eyes to his. Marshall’s word was the gold standard for best practices. If he thought she’d done the right thing, maybe for once in her screwed up life, she had.

Marshall couldn’t understand how she could doubt herself. She had plugged the guy that aimed in the door when Marshall wasn’t looking. She protected her mother with her own body. She protected him.

“I know you did. You saved me, just like you always do.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Now she remembered the guy she shot, the one who was aiming at Marshall.  _Not gonna happen._ He wasn’t getting hurt on her watch. Ever. She didn’t quite have her sass back, but she was better.

“Here Mare.” Marshall had a shiny metal flask in his hand.

She perked up at the smell of whiskey. “Where’d you get that?”

“I keep it in my go bag for medicinal purposes. Standard equipment.”

“Medicinal my ass,” she said as she grabbed the flask and took several large swallows. She shook like a dog drying its self, sputtered and coughed. Her once bleary eyes now focused on him. “Hmm, that reminds me – standard equipment, your equipment. I need to check you out Inspector Marshal Marshall. Make sure everything still works.” Her shoulders had finally dropped from their tight clench near her ears.

“C’mon Sunshine. Let’s wash off the stink of this day.” He pulled her off the bed. When she stood before him he removed her jacket and unbuttoned her shirt, then unzipped her jeans. He ran his hands down her legs, pushing the jeans off. The fact that she stood quietly, letting him do all the work, spoke volumes. Taking her hand, he led her to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and finished removing her clothes. Once the water was at the right temperature, he pushed her under the spray. Glad he had only a sip of whiskey; he removed his own clothes in record time. Soon he was in the shower, behind her. Watching her. Ready to catch her if she fell.

The shower and his closeness seemed to have revitalized Mary and awakened her libido. She turned away from the spray, grabbed his hair and pulled him down for a punishing kiss. He pushed her against the side wall and put his hands on either side of her head. She raised one leg, aiming for his waist, opening herself to him. He got a good grip on her slippery raised leg and entered her without preamble. Their coupling was fast and furious. And wet.

Despite the long day, the nervous anxiety of the shootout, Mary’s compromised safety, and no conclusion to the case, Marshall had energy to spare for loving Mary. All the worries washed away with the shower of pleasure sparking through his body

Mary shuddered as a tidal wave of feeling overwhelmed her.  _So good, so good_ , she thought. Marshall responded. “Yeah, it is.”

“Did I say that out loud?”She knew her brain was compromised. All that she could think of was the sensation of having Marshall in her. She was miffed that he was still able to talk, when she had no words. Mary was competitive even in sex. It was something Marshall loved about her. She wanted to give as good as she got and then some. That was a win win as far as Marshall was concerned.

“Yeah, you did.” He stopped any further conversation with a kiss. When they both came up for air, he got the tiny bar of hotel soap and ran it over her body. He followed with the rough washcloth, paying extra attention to his two favorite nubs. He slowly ran his hand over every part of her. She closed her eyes and delighted in his touch.

When he began to wash himself, Mary grabbed the soap. “Nuh uh. My turn.” She brought the soap up to his neck, running her hands over his collar bones, his chest, following the treasure trail down his front. Then his ass and legs got the same treatment as she avoided the one part rising to greet her. “Ready for another round, Doofus?”

“Tease,” he accused.

“We’ll see about that.” Abandoning the soap for a long thorough rinse, they, rubbed their slippery bodies together. “God, I love hotels,” Mary crooned. “If we were at my place, the water would be cold and we’d be icicles by now.” Marshall’s mouth and hands were too busy to talk.

Their second coupling was more languorous than liquid. A trail of wet towels led from the bathroom to bed. When they finished, spent and satiated, Marshall had just enough presence of mind to pull the covers over them. He murmured, “Love you,” and then slept like the dead.

After four hours Marshall awoke and, got out of bed slowly not wanting to awaken Mary. He got his go bag and went into the bathroom. He smiled as he put on his Invader Zim sleep pants knowing Mary would give him geek grief in the morning. He got a t-shirt and sweatpants for her and thought about moving to the other bed to keep up appearances.  _Appearances be damned_ . He needed her close. But it would look better if she wasn’t naked.

Marshall called Hobbs from the bathroom for an update and assured him there was no reason to take shifts to guard Mary. When he got back to bed, Mary was on her back, mumbling in her sleep. Her spread eagle pose made it relatively easy to get her clothed. To his delight she whined and tried to snuggle into his hands, but never opened her eyes. He checked the alarm and crawled in next to her. She whimpered. He scooted in behind her, his front to her back. He placed his arm around her waist, his hand resting on her lower belly where he dreams one day their child will be. He gently kissed the side of her forehead and slowed his breathing till they are both sound asleep.

 For the first time in a week Mary doesn’t dream of Jinx.

 


	14. Brandi and Jinx

Chapter 14 – Brandi and Jinx

 

For the first time since arriving in Jersey, Mary quickly fell sound asleep. Marshall, still on guard, smiled smugly. He had worn her out. Marshal Marshall had made Inspector Shannon spent, satisfied, and satiated.  

Like Marshall, Mary usually slept lightly when on duty. Even now, getting some serious shut eye, he could tell she sensed him, his movements. She trusted him enough to let herself get the rest, the deep REM sleep her body needed. But even asleep she was aware of him. He knew if he got up, she would know.

Maybe that was because his hand was firmly attached to her breast and his arm around her waist. Eventually Marshall slept too, trusting the marshals to intercept any attacks. Hours later her roused and unintentionally increased the pressure on his nighttime hug. Mary responded by covering the hand at her waist with her own. She was ready to doze back to slumber land when she heard a phone ring. She knew it was Marshall’s because her phone would never play the Imperial March.

“Marshall, Marsh” she whispered harshly wriggling to turn in his arms. “Your phone, get your phone.”

Marshall had been having a wonderful dream. It was the dream he had every night since meeting Mary. He dreamed that he was sleeping next to a hot blonde bombshell who was a kick ass marshal and a sharpshooter. She was running her hand over his chest, his naked chest. He wasn’t going to let this dream go. Nu uh. But when she smacked his chest with the flat of her hand, his eyes flew open.

Mary felt bad when he ‘ooofed’ into her ear. This wasn’t the way she preferred to wake him up. She was pretty sure it wasn’t his either. Still her Doofus looked so sweetly befuddled. _It wasn’t a dream._ Mixing dream and reality in his not quite awake state he could hardly believe his very best dream had come true.

“Your phone, numnutz, Get your phone.” Marshall’s body followed his brain into wakefulness. He rolled over grabbing for his phone on the nightstand. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound as if he had been awake on guard duty, “Marshall.” Well he had been her back all night. Guarding it with his body.

“And good morning to you, Marshal Merritt.” To Mary he sounded like his usual disgustingly cheerful morning self. How anyone could be awake before coffee was beyond her. “Anything to report?” he asked. Mary heard him acknowledge a quiet night. Good, no one tried to kill them in their sleep last night.

“Inspector Shannon isn’t ready yet.” He pointed to the bathroom and made a shooing motion. _Damn Boy Scout._ He wouldn’t lie, so she had to make it true. She skedaddled to the bathroom before Marshall informed Merritt of her whereabouts. 

Since they had showered last night, she saw no reason to repeat her ablutions this morning. She brushed her teeth, and went back to the room to get something to wear. Marshall was nowhere to be seen. Just in case her guards were going to check on her, she grabbed her clothes and went back to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Compared to most women, Mary required very little time to get ready for work. Marshall told her it was because she was gorgeous right out of the box, or in this case, out of the bed. Mary thought he was delusional, but it was a harmless delusion. It seemed to make him happy. As she checked the bathroom for stray items, she heard the door to the room open. She dropped the stuff she was holding and grabbed her Glock. For the second time this trip, she had Marshall in her sights. He was accompanied by the wondrous fragrance of coffee. She dropped her gun and inhaled deeply. “Oh God, I love you like an $8 whore.”

“Come up in the world, have I? It used to be $2.” Mary’s extravagantly crass expressions made him laugh. She tossed expletives like candy from a piñata. His father may have tried to toughen him up, but his mother raised him to be polite and thoughtful. He seldom swore. He wondered where she had picked up her colorful analogies.

“Inflation,” she grunted. “Stop with the Yoda speak.” She focused on the tray in his hands. When she spotted the pastries she grabbed one and said “I might have to upgrade you again, cowboy.  Mmmmm.”

Marshall watched as Mary made love to the Danish. For a dyed in the wool cynic, her mood was quickly changed by a bit of flour and sugar. He compared the rapt look on her face now to the one he had seen in the shower last night. Nope, there was no comparison. He smirked. She did like him better.

As soon as the last Danish disappeared, Mary got her gun and her badge, hooking them onto her belt. She sat on the bed and grabbed her ankle to attach her hold out weapon. Her voice was muffled by her leg. “I’ve got to see Jinx.”

“As well you should. I think you’ll be safe with your escort. You don’t need me there.” Marshall handed her a cup of coffee. She took a sip and savored it.

“What do you mean I don’t need you?” She glared at him. He swore he could hear her thinking, “ _I’ll always need you,”_ so he replied “Just as I will always need you.” At that she gave him a strange look. “Am I talking out loud again when I don’t think I am?”

Marshall was a bit confused himself. Did she speak those words? He rewound the film reel in his mind. “Hmmm. No, I don’t think you did.”

Now Mary became more agitated. “Then how in the hell did you know what I was thinking?” This man, her thoughts stuttered, this man had her number, understood her, like no one else ever had. What did that mean? It both scared and comforted her.

With his own coffee warming his hands, Marshall sat beside her on the bed, and pondered her question. “I don’t know, Sunshine. Shared psychic symmetry? Telepathy? Face it Mare, even before we met, those dreams we shared showed that we are linked, connected. This is just more of the same.”

Mary scrunched up her face, examining his face as if he were some rare bauble or a disgusting bug. “Huh,” was her definitive response. He was hoping for the rare gem.

A rap on the door interrupted her study of him. Too bad, he thought. _She looked she might kiss me._ Marshall sighed, checked for any clothing malfunctions and opened the door. Marshals Hobbs and Merritt had come to report and escort them.

The marshals had not heard of any tips from the gangs, or the mob enforcers regarding Mary or Jinx. Marshall called Chief Varney. The Chief and Detective Ruiz had few new developments they didn’t want to discuss over the phone. Marshall needed to be there to see how the new pieces fit. He needed to download the files from Stan too. But Mary needed to see her mother.

Much to Mary’s disgust, her guards decided to do the entire protective detail thing. Once again a black SUV would be their transport. Marshall was dropped off at the Annex first. Tweedle dee and Tweedle dumber drove into the delivery entrance of the hospital and covered her as she left the black SUV. With a marshal in front and one behind, Mary felt like the blonde filling in a bland sandwich.

Mary checked the guard outside Jinx room. Peeking in the door she was glad to see Jinx awake and sitting up. It took her a while to figure out what was different. Mary saw a woman with pretty features, an attractive mop of dark hair, and bright eyes _. Jinx is sober_. Mary could see what Jinx must have looked like when she was young.

Strolling into the room, Mary made her presence known as gently as she could. Her usual stomp had become a quiet shuffle. “Hey Mom, how are you doing?” Empathy had never been Mary’s long suite, but she wanted Jinx to know she was truly interested. Deputy Merritt entered the room with Mary. Hobbs joined the deputy in the hall. Mary wasn’t thrilled to have an audience for their reunion.

“Mary?” Jinx knew Mary was working and hadn’t expected to see her so soon again.  “Who’s your friend?” she gestured to the marshal looking out the window.

Mary needed to down play the guard, but Jinx motioned her close and whispered “There was a man dressed just like him right outside my door **all** night. I could hardly sleep.”

“I know Mom.” How did she tell the woman that she might still be in danger without having her flip out? How do you tell your mother that armed marshals were deemed necessary for their safety?

“Mom, you were taken against your will, kidnapped. They want you to feel safe, comfortable, so you can rest and heal.” Jinx wouldn’t know the drill. If Mary made it sound like having a guard was what always happened, maybe, just maybe, Jinx could accept and move on. Mary devoutly hoped so.

But Jinx wasn’t fooled. She had connected the dots faster than Mary hoped. “You mean they think someone might try to kidnap me again!” Her voice squeaked on ‘again.’

This was just the discussion Mary did not want to have. Jinx didn’t need to be wound up or have her fear ratcheted up. She could do that without being kidnapped. Mary needed to stop the Jinx drama train at the station.

“You know mom, all that alcohol they made you drink . . .” Mary hoped to get Jinx to focus on her health. It would be helpful if she could remember something about her captors.

Jinx wasn’t dissuaded. She wanted to let her daughter know just how awful it was. “It wasn’t even decent whisky. I tell you that rotgut made me sick.” Jinx grabbed the stiff hospital sheets and thin cover and pulled them toward her. My stomach feels as if it were turned inside out and scrubbed with a stiff brush.”

Mary winced at Jinx’s description, but this was the segue she was hoping for.

“I know Mom; I know it made you sick. The doctors are working to clear all that stuff out of you, give your body a fresh start. You need to be patient while they get your stomach fixed up. Just do what they tell you.” She wanted to give her mother hope so she would hang on and see the treatment through.

“Why am I hooked up to all this?” Jinx gestured to the IV tree next to the bed and the wire leading to the heart monitor above her head.

Marshall had explained the purpose of the equipment. All Mary could remember were garden hoses, and water running through the hose, rinsing away the build up in a pipe. Maybe that would do. It was as close to the truth she could get without her doctor speak interpreter.

Mary explained what she knew and tried to put a positive spin on it. “They didn’t have to pump your stomach. That would have been rough. You were pretty empty by the time you got here. The IV is giving you fluids. Alcohol dehydrates you, takes the water out of your system.”

“I know what dehydrated means,” with asperity. “I’m not an idiot.” Some of her spark was returning. While it was a good sign for Jinx’s recovery, Mary hoped it wouldn’t make the woman more difficult to deal with.

“Of course you’re not, Mom. That’s why you can take advantage of the spring cleaning they’re giving your body. You’re getting a fresh start. How do you feel about that?” Mary hoped her mother would take her comments at face value. She did want the best for her mother. Jinx often went for quick superficial fixes and avoided dealing with long term solutions that addressed the real cause.

Jinx seemed nonplussed by the idea. She looked straight ahead, ignoring Mary and the marshal by the window.  Good, thought Mary. She’s actually considering it.

“You’re already through the painful part –getting the booze out of your system. Let your body heal.  Give it a try Mom. For me, for Brandi, but mostly for yourself.”

Jinx briefly smiled and looked at her older daughter. “A healthy glow is always attractive. Heavens knows, I’m not getting any younger. I’ve tried everything else and really can’t afford those expensive treatments.” She rambled on for a few minutes, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of stuff guaranteed to restore a youthful look. Mary tuned out and checked out the deputies guarding the room.

Eventually Jinx ran out of beauty tips and realized someone was missing.  “Where is Brandi? Where’s my baby? Why isn’t she here?” Mary didn’t want to worry her mother even more. Realizing Brandi had been in hiding would stir their pot of troubles. Mary had been looking out into the hall when she saw a blonde head and heard a commotion.

“She’s my Mom. I need to see her. You have no right. . . ”  


Mary to the door and grabbed Brandi by the hand. She looked the guard in the eye assuring him, “She’s with me. She’s my sister.”   _Huh, I’m actually willing to acknowledge that fact to law enforcement._ The thought brought a wry smile to her lips.

Released by the guard, Brandi wailed and dove for Jinx. Mary rolled her eyes, and grabbed Brandi around the waist to keep her from landing on Jinx’s sore body. Mary always figured her sister had gotten a double dose of drama because Mary gotten none. Her life as a marshal had plenty. She didn’t need to manufacture it herself.

Surprises involving Brandi weren’t usually this pleasant. “Brandi, how did you get here?” Mary managed to blurt it out before Jinx could ask.

“Marshall called.” _Ah Doofus. Looking out for us, even when you aren’t here._ The tearful reunion of the Shannon women continued under the careful watch of three marshals. Brandi assured Mary that she could stay with Jinx. Since Brandi was there for Jinx, and a guard was there for the two women, Mary felt OK leaving the hospital.

***

At the Annex, Marshall had been glued to his borrowed computer after leaving Mary. He had just begun to decipher the results of his latest data mining since he didn’t see the files Stan had promised to send. He was figuring out what to do next when his burner phone rang. Looking to see if anyone noticed, he turned away from the bull pen and answered. “Stan, why are you using this phone?”

Instead of explaining Stan asked, “Can you talk?”

“Sure, give me a minute.” Marshall switched his computer screen to an innocuous spread sheet and entered the conference room. “What’s up?”

“There’s a leak.”

Marshall rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know,” his tone reflected the disgust he felt at the lack of new information. Why would Stan call on the burner to tell him the obvious? Stan was many things, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Eleanor shows it coming from the Jersey marshals.” That was new and very much undesirable information. Marshall ran his hand over his face, rubbing his forehead, trying to ease the pain of this new complication. “You should have those files, now. Read them and get rid of any trace on the machine you’re using.”

This was serious. Deadly serious. If the marshal’s office was involved, their circle of those in the know would shrink to Mary, Stan, Eleanor and him. That meant the resources they could tap would shrink too. “We’ll talk soon.” Stan hung up without saying good bye.

Marshall met with Chief Varney and Detective Ruiz. They discussed the new leads batting around several theories of how the new information connected to the old. He spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon running threat assessments, searching for known associates of Paddy O’Connor, everything Chief Varney would expect him to do.  Mary joined him in late afternoon. He got her away from the bull pen and prying eyes. When he pushed her into a janitorial storage closet, Mary put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. She had just begun a passionate assault on his mouth when Marshall broke the suction of the kiss. Mary couldn’t understand his reluctance and wondered if he had gotten tired of her already.

“Mary,” he grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. “Look, there’s nothing I would like better than to spend the afternoon here exploring every nook and cranny of your anatomy. Stan called. Stan called my burner phone.”

She quickly shifted from romantic to rational. “What? Why would he do that?” Marshall let her stew on that fact. She didn’t disappoint. “Something’s wrong. Something bad,” she concluded, checking his expression for clues.

Marshall nodded in agreement. “Eleanor found that the leak that led the gang to the container port came from here.”

“Here? As in here here?” She removed one hand from Marshall and pointed to the floor. He could see her hackles rising, her senses alert. Just when she had begun to feel safe.

“Yes. The leak came from this building.”

“There are other divisions here, Special Ops, Asset Seizure. Could it be one of them?” Mary rationalized.

“That’s true,” he agreed. “I can fine tune the data, maybe even trace it to a single phone line, but I can’t do it here.”

“We could go back to the hotel. Claim we’re still tired.” She looked at him cagily. “We are tired, aren’t we?” Her tone of voice left no doubt she was referring to the actions that had made them tired last night.

Marshall thought she looked more sultry than tired, but objected. “We can’t do anything that makes them suspicious.”

She removed her remaining hand from around his neck and agreed. “So, business as usual?”

“Yeah. I can load whatever I find onto my flash drive and wipe any of the data I’ve gathered from the hard drive. Once I sever the connection to my computer in Albuquerque, it will be difficult to track what I’ve done. But I’ll need another computer. You don’t have a ‘friend’ like the used car guy who specializes in computer hardware, do you Sunshine?”

Mary looked thoughtful, but said. “Nope, I’m coming up empty.”

“We could go back to the hospital,” Mary suggested. “That would be expected. Jinx will be released soon. We have to find a place for her and Brandi. Knowing what we know now, I don’t want the Jersey marshals in on it.”

Marshall was secretly thrilled by her use of ‘we.’ It had taken him months to make her understand that they were stronger, smarter, and more likely to succeed when they worked together. “Yeah, that wouldn’t draw the wrong kind of attention.” Marshall agreed.

“We’d better get out of here before we’re missed.” Marshall peeked out the slightly opened the door and eased out of the closet. Signaling Mary that the coast was clear, she followed him.

They had lunch delivered to the lobby, unwilling to chance the cafeteria. Even before they knew the leak had originated in the Annex, the quality of the cafeteria food was desperation time only. They went to the break room and decided bottled water from the vending machine was probably safe. Marshall inspected the bottles and took a tentative sip before giving the OK.

“Brandi’s with Jinx. Thank you for that.” Mary mumbled around her gyro. Sour cream slid down her hand and Marshall watched as she licked it off her fingers. She couldn’t resist the opportunity and slowly licked each finger, finally putting one in her mouth and sucking on it. _He’s too easy!_

“Da nada.” He said around his food. He shifted his gaze away from her, trying to ignore her wanton display. If only other parts of his body would obey.

They finished lunch, and spent another hour running through threat assessments and leads—everything already shared with the Jersey marshals. This time they focused on the information obtained from the Jersey marshals. What was true? What might be disinformation? Everything Marshall had worked on the last few days was copied to his flash drive. Then Marshall severed the link to his computer in Albuquerque. He wiped everything he had done computer. Then he did it again, and set a program to wipe it the next time this computer was turned on. Three times was the charm.

Before leaving Mary and Marshall went to Varney’s office and thanked him again for his help.  Mary seemed a little off to Marshall. Given what she knew now, she couldn’t be as friendly to the Chief. Mary usually avoided the touchy feely stuff, so Marshall hoped the Chief didn’t notice. Marshall shook his hand and said that Stan had called. They were due back in ABQ soon. He didn’t want the Jersey marshals looking for them if they had to disappear.

Merritt and Hobbs drove them to the hospital. Brandi and Jinx fell all over Marshall, thanking him for the rescue and for keeping Mary safe. Marshall demurred that he was one of many, but they didn’t buy it. Marshall excused himself to give the women time to visit. Instead of heading for the restrooms, he sat next to one of the guards in the hallway. He quizzed him on activity at the hospital, got his name, and thanked him. Then he headed for hospital security.

The security officer for the hospital was former agent, a surprisingly high caliber of protection for a hospital. Caleb explained his wife was a doctor here. After 9-11 he felt she would be safer if he were protecting her, and the hospital. “Most people think it’s the convenience of working at the same place, and my former employment isn’t generally known. It’s important to me to have her close.” Marshall knew exactly how the man felt.

Back at Jinx’s room, arrangements had to be made for Brandi – a different place to stay. Avoiding her usual routine, and looking for another job. He noticed Mary was quiet, and drew her out of the circle of her family.

“Whatcha thinking?” He knew there was something.

“I’m thinking they might be better off at my place.”

“In Albuquerque?” he asked. Marshall knew Mary had celebrated the lack of family drama in Albuquerque. It said a lot that she was willing to bring them with her to keep them safe despite the chaos they created in her own life. Protection was her job and they needed protecting. What a way to bring the job home.

“Yeah. I’m usually at your place. It’s just sitting empty. Stan could beef up the security.”

Marshall dragged out his response, still thinking. “Yeeessss. Security would need improving, but if we booked the airline seats ourselves, there would still be a trail.” Marshall looked out the window, considering options.  “Let me work on that.”

Taking his burner phone to the window, Marshall punched in a familiar number. “Dad? It’s Marshall. I need a favor.”

Mary asked Merritt to give them some time alone. She assured him that with her and Marshall in the room, his charges were safe. Merritt reluctantly joined Hobbs and the guard in the corridor.

Marshall rejoined the group as Mary was quietly making her case that Jinx and Brandi should stay with her. Jinx was ready to be released today, earlier than they had thought. Brandi was still scared. “If you’re going to go it needs to be now, today.”

Marshall agreed. “It would be safer that way. I can make arrangements to get you both out of Jersey today.”

“You can?” Mary looked at him. _Who in the hell did he call?_

Jinx and Brandi looked at each other, trembled and nodded. “I need something to wear,” Jinx pleaded. “They took mine.”

“I’ll get you some traveling clothes Mom. Brandi, you good?”

“I have what I took to Joanna’s. Some of it might fit you, Mom.” Both women were stunned by the sudden turn of events.

“Look,” Mary got their attention. “No one and I mean no one can know where you are going. Don’t tell the nurses the doctor or the guard.” Looking to Marshall for confirmation she said, “We’ll have a different set of guards take you to Albuquerque.” Marshall nodded and went to the window to call his Dad.

“Here’s the key to my place. People from my work will meet you there. They should use the word ‘biscuit’ when they introduce themselves. If they don’t – run.”

“Mary, you’re scaring us,” Jinx complained.

“You should be scared Mom. These guys play for keeps.”

“How soon can they be here?” Mary’s question was directed at Marshall. “Two hours. We’ll stay till the new detail shows up. When they leave, we leave for the hotel. Merritt and Hobbs will have received orders to turn over Jinx and Brandi to the new set of marshals.”

When the new security detail showed up, Mary noticed that one looked a lot like Marshall. Similar build, complexion and hair color.  Mary nudged Marshall and mouthed, “Relative?” Marshall nodded.

“These marshals will escort you to Mary’s place. No need for a biscuit.” Mary looked at him, eyebrow raised. She trusted him.

Which is how Brandi and Jinx Shannon got to Albuquerque on a JPATS flight.

Marshals Merritt and Hobbs once again in tow, Marshall and Mary went back to the hotel room. By the time Marshall got word the flight had safely departed, his stomach growling for dinner. Mary handed him the room service menu. “Starving you, are we?”

“Now who’s doing Yoda speak?” he smirked.

Mary had relaxed once her mother and sister were in the air. Actually, he had seen her body unclench when she figured out who was accompanying them. Mary hadn’t met any of Marshall’s family but she knew his father and brothers were marshals. If they was anything like Marshall, she knew her family was safe as houses.

Back at the room she flopped on the bed and put her arm over her eyes. Marshall snuggled close to her and whispered, “Get packed. We may need to leave with very little notice.” She turned and put her arm around his neck, drawing him close, shifting to lie on her side. “What has Doofus done?” Her voice was soft. Ever since Marshall had told her the source of the leak, she watched what she said around her protection detail.

The knock on the door came an hour after room service. Mary and Marshall had demolished dinner and Mary was eyeing the mini bar when she heard it. Marshall checked the peephole and opened the door.

“Stan!” Mary exclaimed. She had never greeted a boss so warmly. But Stan wasn’t just any boss. Stan had a laptop tucked under his arm, and regretted not being able to hug Mary. He’s never had the nerve before. She had never been in the mood to accept a hug from him before.

“Get your bags,” he ordered. “I sent your guards to the lobby. We’re going out the back way.”

Stan led them to a different service stairway than they had used when entering the hotel. When they got out to the street, Mary was gleeful to see the restorod they had purchased from Larry. Stan handed her the keys. Marshall rode shotgun while Stan, the laptop and their bags were in the back. Mary was unable to squeal the tires pulling out from the curb because of the ice on the road. Marshall thought that was a good thing. They didn’t need to attract attention.

 


	15. Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Stan makes three.

Chap. 15 – Suspicion –

Mary beamed at the restorod. Driving the powerful machine made her feel in control. After all of the events last week that she couldn't control, having the wheel in her hands felt good. Winter gripped the dark city streets. The roads were bordered by mounds of snow streaked with gray and crowned with black. The main roads had lost their jacket of ice. The cement gleamed wetly reflecting the headlights of the few cars braving the weather. Mary had no fond memories of driving in snow and ice, but it was like riding a bicycle. She trusted she knew how, but Stan had the plan. "Where to?"

"North, get out of the city. Head toward Poughkeepsie. Keep off 95." Stan and Eleanor had carefully chosen the safe house. Not too far from Newark, but not close enough that the Newark PD or local office of the FBI or DEA would stumble across them. If they did get company, it would be clear that they were sought out, followed, targeted.

"Aye, aye, Chief." Mary took them to the nearest on ramp, pointed the nose north and stepped on the gas. The shushing sound of the tires made them aware of driving conditions. Mary glanced in the rear view mirror to see Stan's queasy face. "Hang in there Stan. We've got Michelin Xi3's on this baby and I've driven in snow and ice all my life." Stan sat back and while not exactly relaxed, did look less like he'd swallowed something sour.

Looking back at Stan, Mary saw something else in the rear view mirror. "Marshall. Check out those bright headlights behind us." Marshall leaned to check the side mirror then craned his head to join Stan looking out the rear window. "Looks like an SUV. A black one." Mary cursed and changed lanes, slowing down to get behind the other car. The SUV sped up and passed them. "It's not them. I could see a kid, maybe two in the back. Just a family on their way home." Mary breathed out and Marshall could see her grip on the wheel relax.

Marshall steered the conversation away from Stan's gut and Mary's driving. He fiddled with the radio finding a weather station. The weather report was scratchy with static interrupting the broadcast. Marshall put his ear close to the speaker. "Sounds like there are no snow storms coming our way. Not all of 87's been plowed. We may end up stalled behind the snow plows," Marshall informed them.

The road ahead was clear, for now. "What are you doing here, Chief," It was unusual for the Chief to leave his office and fly across country. This case didn't even involve a witness, just Mary. "I'm glad to have you here, Stan, just, I never expected . . . . "

"I thought you'd need rescuing," said Stan looking at Marshall. "Rescued from Mary," Stan clarified with a tiny smirk. Stan figured if he left them together too long they would self combust.

The fact that he'd come in person meant there were further complications, other parties involved in targeting her and her family. Paddy, the gangs, the mob, Rosco. Who else wanted a piece of her? "He does all right by himself, Stan," Mary defended Marshall before he could object.

"Right here, folks. I'm right here." Marshall reminded them. It felt weird to have Mary and Stan talking about him. "I believe we are adequately rescued, Chief." Getting back to the business of keeping them alive he asked, "You had this car swept for bugs?" Marshall knew Stan would do everything to keep Mary safe. The fact that it could save them all was a bonus.

"No bugs or trackers or bombs. I went over it myself," Stan supplied. Mary didn't know a lot about Stan's background. If he trusted his skills to do the sweep, she had to accept his expertise.

"Must have been easier than figuring out if the on board computer had been tampered with," Mary commented. "You would have needed the geek here," she motioned toward Marshall.

"No kidding. But this" Stan searched for an adequate description. "This race car has so many modifications, and performance enhancers, it took hours." Chief seemed to know a few tricks. She hadn't considered a bomb.

"So," Mary queried. "Now that we're pretty sure the NSA isn't listening, whatcha got?"

Stan unzipped his heavy coat and retrieved a folded sheet of paper. Reaching forward he handed it to Marshall. Marshall studied it under his flashlight. "This is Lamarko Rosco and. . ." he paused, uncertain, his finger tracing the other person in the photo. "James Shannon?"

"Correct," Stan confirmed. Mary was trying to see, leaning toward Marshall. "Eyes on the road Mary or we'll all end up in the ditch." Marshall didn't want Mary driving distracted. She'd want to know but he needed to be careful if they all were to survive her reaction.

"When was it taken? Where did you get this?" Mary was anxious to hear every detail.

"Eleanor's 'friend' intercepted a feed going to the Newark PD." Stan said. "The image is from a surveillance camera in an industrial district south of Newark. It's private security equipment but the PD has access. She was running facial recognition for Rosco when this turned up."

"Who else has seen this?"

"Detective Ruiz, I'm sure. He may have shared it with the Jersey marshals by now." Stan answered. Mary wasn't sure how she felt about Chief Varney knowing that her father had been spotted. She found it hard to believe that he was the leak, but someone in the Annex was.

"It's a positive id? This is pretty grainy." Marshall needed to be sure. But if Stan and Eleanor had checked the photo, they must be certain. Marshall was handling the paper, turning it under the flashlight.

Mary had enough. "Show me what you've got or I'm pulling off the road and we'll be late to our rendezvous."  _Ack! Rendezvous?_

"It's from a private security cam. It shows your father and Rosco. Were they coming or going Stan?" If Rosco and James Shannon had left the area, they needed to know. Rosco seemed to be the one who had set up the hunt for Mary. What did Mary's father have to do with that? Was Mary in the clear now?

"Show me the damn photo." Mary demanded. Marshall held the paper in front of the steering wheel allowing Mary a few moments to glance at it, while mostly keeping her eyes on the road.

"Damn , damn, damn." Words failed her. Even her grasp of derogatory expletives wasn't up to framing the proper response to seeing a recent picture of her father. Marshall couldn't tell if she was cursing James Shannon's involvement in Jinx's kidnapping or his sudden appearance in her life.

"Yeah, well, we got bigger fish to fry," Stan told them, as he settled back. "Looks like the mob is ready to whack you and Marshall. They don't care about James Shannon anymore, if they ever did. After this was taken Rosco and your father fell off the grid. No more video has turned up. The mob would be their most pressing problem. They fronted Rosco the money for the latest heist. They always collect on their debts," he continued ominously.

"Or my father could be delivering Rosco to the mob," Mary advised. "We know Rosco had dealings with the mob. What do we know about my fathers' mob connections? You think the mob got them both?"

Mary didn't know how she felt about that. Daddy had been gone so long. His sporadic letters had been a cherished secret when she was younger. Looking at the letters as marshal creeped her out. Why should she care if he was dead? Except for some words scribbled on cheap paper he'd been out of her life for decades. The two men in this car meant more to her than her father.

Marshall insisted they switch drivers. Mary needed to get a good look at that photo. He hadn't driven their incognito race car once since Mary had pried it out of slime ball Larry's hot hands. "C'mon, Mare. You can't have all the fun."

"When was the last time you drove on ice, Marshall?" Mary did trust his driving. She just didn't want him to think she was melted by his charm. Wouldn't do to let the Mann have the upper hand. He'd think she was sick.

"Taos," Marshall retorted. "Santa Fe, Sandia Peak. Remember?" In the whirlwind weeks after Mary moved to Albuquerque Marshall had shown her the natural beauty of New Mexico, cementing her decision to stay. She did remember that.

"Stop whining. I have to pee anyway. Where's the next rest stop?" She'd let him win this round. It would take his mind off the dangerous issues facing them. Give him something else to think about besides who could be gunning for them.

Fifteen minutes later, Mary got out, and stretched. When Marshall unfolded himself from the passenger seat, he leaned against the car, waiting for Mary. Instead of getting into the passenger seat, Mary leaned against him, cheek to his chest, giving Stan an eyeful. He gave her a hug, and opened the passenger door.

Back on the road, Marshall could tell by her furrowed brow Mary's life had been jerked out of its track. To give her time to adjust her world to the changes caused by this photo, he continued to probe Stan. "Do you know if the mob ordered a hit on them?"

"No. We don't," Stan replied. "No bodies have been found. They could be under a snow bank and not discovered till it melts. Nothing from the usual agencies has mentioned them." Stan admitted. "There are too damn many unknowns."

"What about Evans and Jeburk?" Mary had recovered from the shock of seeing the photo. He looked different, older.  _Of course he's older. Even he can't stop time._ She had only a glimpse, but the man in the photo looked grizzled, lean, as if he'd been living on the streets. She refused to feel sorry for him. He deserved everything that he had caused.

"That's where it gets sticky." Stan says. "That's partly why I'm here. Jeburk was in Northern State Prison in Newark."

"Was?" Marshall interrupted. If this was going where he feared it was going it was bad news. He could see the concern reflected in Mary's face.

"Until two days ago. He was working in the prison laundry and never showed up in his cell," Stan reported. Eleanor had of connected the dots, persistently asking the right questions and getting answers that none of them wanted.

"You think Jeburk hooked up with Rosco?" Mary was touched Stan cared enough to come to Jersey because of the threat. She'd never had a boss who took that responsibility so seriously. Stan had to pull in some large favors to get the office taken care of and then get him here.

"Or Rosco went after James Shannon to get the money that never turned up from their last heist, pay off the mob, and get himself out of hot water," Marshall theorized. "Then where's Jeburk?"

"What about Evans?" Might as well know all the bad guys who could be after them.

"Eleanor has a call to the warden of his prison. As soon as the warden lays eyes on Evans, she'll call." Stan supplied.

"What's in Poughkeepsie?" Mary fretted. "Why are we going there?"

"There's a safe house with secure access," assured Stan. In the discussion about who wanted to kill them, their destination had taken a back seat.

Marshall had more questions. "Who knows we're going there?" They were in the secret keeping business and Marshall knew how difficult it was to arrange a get away without any other marshals or officials knowing.

"Eleanor." Stan declared.

Mary couldn't believe it was that simple. "Who else? The Marshal Service knows which safe houses are being used. You had to ask somebody."

Stan leaned back, his expression smug. For the first time since he arrived at their hotel door, he didn't look worried. "I didn't have to. Eleanor did. The house we're going to has no connection to the Marshal Service."

"Mare? You need to rest." Marshall was concerned that she'd been hyper alert, turning over possible scenarios for too long. "You'll lose your edge and not be the backup Stan and I need," he cajoled. Mary Shannon knew guilt when it raised its ugly head. She did great guilt. Unwillingly, Mary leaned her head against the side window and closed her eyes. "When do they land? When I know they are in Albuquerque, I'll relax," she promised. Marshall snorted, not believing her for a minute.

Marshall checked with Stan. "They should be landing in 30 minutes. By the time we get to the safe house, they should be at your place. The sooner we get going, the sooner we'll be where you can contact them." Marshall looked down at her, trying to catch her eye. "OK?"

"Yeah, yeah," she replied tiredly. "I'll close my eyes and be the river." She snorted but complied. She was sure she wouldn't sleep, but her body betrayed her once again. The car was warm and she enjoyed the feeling of being safe knowing it wouldn't last.

After another hour, Stan directed Marshall to a blue two story detached house. Two lamps gleamed on either side of the white front door. Another light, around the side, lit the garage door. The house was built on a slight rise with the earth scooped away on one side so that the garage was the basement. No trees or bushes grew near the house. A clear view from the windows in all directions. No porch. The front door opened onto the front walk. Mary approved.

Stan aimed the garage door opener at the white sectional door. It rose smoothly. A furnace, water heater and large cardboard box greeted them. They got out of the car as Stan closed the garage door. A motion sensor triggered the light. Mary headed for the box. The top flaps were open and she could see a loaf of bread. Looking to Stan for the OK.

Stan nodded, "Yeah, a gift from Eleanor."

"Yeah, Mare. She knows how cranky you get when you don't get fed." Marshall teased.

"Me? Me? You overgrown," she stumbled for words, finally settling on "Doofus." Your stomach growls loud enough to wake the dead."

"Going by this argument, we're all hungry. Let's check this place out, and get something to eat."

"Wait," Marshall ordered. "I've got a signal on the burner phone. Is it ok to call Eleanor about Brandi and Jinx?"

"Yeah. I gave her the number for that phone. She'll answer."

Mary stopped rummaging through the groceries as soon as she saw the phone in Marshall's hand. She stood close enough to hear both sides of the conversation. A loaf of bread was cradled in the crook of her arm.

"Eleanor? It's Marshall."

"Yeah, it's good to hear your voice too. I'm calling about . . . "

Eleanor already knew why he would risk calling her. Mary and Stan were both startled by Marshall's next words.

"Bobbie? Yeah, yeah. Sounds good. We'll contact you tomorrow. Thanks for everything." He hit the off button and turned to his two companions.

"Dershowitz has arranged for a patrol car to check your house tonight. Eleanor didn't give him any details, but she got him to provide surveillance."

"Eleanor can be quite," Stan paused, "persuasive."

"I don't care what she told him. I'm just glad Bobbi's keeping an eye on Brandi and Jinx. Hope they don't trash my place," she sighed.

"That's my girl. Always able to find the down side in the most positive of situations," Marshall declared.

Mary snagged peanut butter to go with the bread then headed to the stairs. Marshall grabbed the box. They stairs led to the kitchen, where Marshall deposited the groceries.

The house was small, two bedrooms, and one bath. "Good thing we're close buds. By the looks of this place, we're going to be close whether we want to be or not."

"Dibs on the bathroom." Mary put the bread and peanut butter on the counter. "If you touch that you damn well better make me a sandwich too."

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything else, Sunshine." Marshall.

Stan walked into the living room, flicking the hall lights on, but leaving the living room dark. He pulled the drape away from the front windows, checking the exterior. It was late. Cars were parked on the street. The snow hadn't hit as hard here. Stan could see the lawns dusted lightly with white. Clouds of heat rose from most of the houses. Many houses were dark. Their residents in bed hours ago. Having completed the perimeter check, Stan went to see what Marshall was doing in the kitchen.

Marshall had gotten out of his long coat, scarf and gloves. He turned on the stove for heat. "What have we here? Bread, peanut butter, macaroni and cheese, hmm. Hey Stan, is this how you provided for your witnesses back in the day?" He held up two magnums, a chardonnay and a cabernet.

Stan smiled at Eleanor's thoughtfulness. Marshall scrounged for glasses and a pot to cook the mac and cheese.

"Eleanor didn't mention anything new on the ambush." Marshall stirred the boiling macaroni. He was wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron found in one of the drawers when he went looking for pots and pans.

Stan sighed plopped himself down on a kitchen chair, legs extended, jacket open. He had turned the heater on before leaving the garage, but it was still chilly.

In addition to checking out the sole bathroom, Mary checked the upstairs windows. She could see out the front and back of the house, but there were no side windows. She remembered the garage vent window. It was on a side and would be a good sniper location. Satisfied, she went downstairs to the kitchen. Her eyes lit up when she saw the bottles of wine and she scrounged for glasses.

"Marshall, which one would go better with mac and cheese?"

"The chardonnay. I already opened it. It's chilled."

She poured and offered a glass to Stan. He looked doubtful, but took a sip. "One won't hurt."

As she neared Marshall with a glass for him, Mary snickered at Marshalls' apron. "You really want Stan to kiss you?" Marshall grabbed the glass and glared at her. "If you want to eat, you'd better behave."

She winked at him and said softly, close to his ear, "You like it better when I don't behave." Stan's eyebrows reached his nonexistent hairline, but neither Mary or Marshall noticed. The chardonnay did go well with the mac and cheese.

Fed and somewhat rested, Mary insisted she take the first watch. Stan took one upstairs bedroom and Marshall the other. Mary sat in the living room, peering out the windows at the cold winter night. She searched for stars in vain. The overcast and bright lights of the east coast overwhelmed the starlight. She thought of the bejeweled night sky of Albuquerque and hoped Jinx and Brandi were settled. She wondered if she would see her father at the end of this chase.

She had gotten the photo from Stan. It was printed on regular paper, not the glossy photo paper that would sharpen the image. How was James Wiley Shannon involved? Was he being sought by Rosco for another robbery? Were Rosco and Jeburk and Evans working together to grab her father and make him cough up the money from their last heist with him? Was that grey haired wiry man in the surveillance photo really her father?

Mary was pretty sure of the last item. The other theories jostled her thoughts, going round and round like clothes in a dryer. Ideas, facts and presumptions jumbled together in different permutations with the mark of the mob staining everything.

Then there was Marshall. In the few months she'd known the real Marshall, he was everything the Marshall of her dreams promised, and so much more. There'd never been a man who knew her like Marshall. There never was a man she called partner. Her Dad had tainted that word calling Mary his partner. Mary never referred to anyone on the FTF team as her partner, even when one had been assigned to her.

Why did her partner shrug off her abrasive cynicism and take her disparaging nicknames as intimacies? Always the professional, he watched her back. She trusted him to cover her blind. Few people, few men, had earned her trust. Marshall had it from day one. How could that be? Not only the how. The why confounded her. She'd trusted her instincts, her gut, all her life. But this was different. Deeper somehow, more central to who she was, and who he was. She was a better person with him by her side. Was she becoming dependant? How could she be such a  _girl_?

She made a quick trip to the basement garage, checking out the side window. Marshall would have said she was looking for a disturbance in the force.  _Silly man._  Once back on the first floor, she checked all the windows and settled on the couch, facing the front door. A sliver of night visible from the crack in the drapes.

As though her thoughts had summoned him, she heard Marshall's quiet footfalls on the stairs. He checked the perimeter then sat next to her. "All clear, Mare. Go on, go get some sleep. I'll join you when it's Stan's watch." With that sweet promise, Mary gave him a chaste kiss, trailing her hand over his cheek, and went upstairs.

She peeked in the room Stan was using. He was sacked out on top of the covers, only his shoes removed. She folded the other half of the covers over him. The house had warmed up but it was winter and covers needed. In the other room, the sheets still had a warm spot. Marshall. His jacket hung on the chair next to the queen sized bed. Surrounded by his scent, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

It seemed as if she had just closed her eyes when her very own Doofus lay down next to her. "Sleep, Sunshine. Stan's got it." And she did sleep, on this the second night since they found Jinx.

 


	16. Stan and Plans

 

Chapter 16 – Stan and Plans

 

Safe House, Poughkeepsie, NY

Waking alone, Mary trundled downstairs to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. Marshall was awake, humming cheerfully and working on breakfast. He hands her a cup of coffee, and gestures for her to sit at the small kitchen table. Marshall knew better than to talk to Mary before she had caffeine on board.

She sat, the cup warming her hands, eyes closed. A scraping noise made her open her eyes to see a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. Handing her a fork, Marshall sat down to his own breakfast, hopping up when the toaster popped. They sat and ate. The sounds of their chewing were soon joined by steps on the stairs signaling Stan’s arrival.

“Good morning, Stan my man.” Mary glared at Marshall for being obnoxiously upbeat so early in the day. Marshall motioned to the counter where coffee, eggs and bacon waited.

Groggily, Stan grabbed a cup and filled it. Stan thought of Eleanor when he saw the Macchiato flavored creamer he liked. His face looked as sleep rumpled as his suit. Stan filled a plate and joined them at the table.

“We’re perfect partners Stan.” Mary paused, pointing with her fork. “Marshall can cook a great breakfast and I can eat it. Perfect. Right?”  Mary did think this was the perfect partnership. She could cook, but Marshall’s always tasted better. She’d have to get him to teach her a few of his tricks. Her expression softened as she thought of his bed time ‘tricks.’

Stan ignored Mary.  “This looks great Marshall.  Thanks. What’s on the agenda for today?”

The needed to regroup, to put all the information they had into a coherent plan. There were still too many unknowns. They all worried about the leak in the Jersey marshal’s office. Stan wondered if it was connected to the mob. Was it focused on Mary? Who was gunning for Mary? He was concerned for the safety of his Inspectors. Stan knew that if Mary was the target, Marshall would be there. He would shield her, take a bullet for her, and do everything in his arsenal to protect her.

While Stan finished eating, Marshall cleared his dishes and Mary’s and set up the laptop on the kitchen table. Marshall’s memory was good, but this was too important to miss any of the facts they and Eleanor had gathered. Murmuring encouragements to the machine, he booted it up and inserted the flash drive he had used at the Annex.

Finally awake enough to focus, Mary groused over her coffee cup. “You never whisper sweet nothings like that to me”

Without looking up from the screen, Marshall protested, “Like you respond to sweetness.”

Marshall had realized long ago that he was the girl in their relationship. He was romantic, preferring thoughtful touches and a slow build up of burning desire. Marshall’s love was like a banked fire, the embers, warm and comforting and always there. Mary went from zero to sexy in 60 seconds. It amazed Marshall that she could be so cold and calculating one minute, and jumping his bones, wet and ready the next. Not that he minded.

“Why don’t you clean up the kitchen, Sunshine? I’ll get this diagnostic running. I want to make sure all the documents created at the Annex are clean.”  If the leak had compromised the network, a virus or worm could have been inserted into any documents created on Marshall’s borrowed computer.

“Makes sense.” Stan nodded his approval and produced a flash drive from his pocket.

“Do this one too. Eleanor put everything she found on here.” Stan missed Eleanor, but it was imperative he be here for this operation, for Mary. His broader picture of the Marshal Service, the personalities and political agendas might have bearing on the leak. The threat to Mary was real, but the threat the leak posed to the integrity of the Marshal Service was as dangerous and in its own way, critical not only to their plans, but the entire Service.

Program running, Marshall sat back and patted his stomach. “Remind me to thank Eleanor.” Mary was glad to see him fueled for the day. Or the next few hours. It took a lot to keep Marshall going. Especially since he insisted on eating healthy crap, like salads and vegetables.

As she picked up Stan’s plate she took a good look at him. Mary had never seen the Chief so disheveled, worried and tired. “Where’s your bag, Stan?”

“In the trunk. I’ll get it later.” He waved his hand, motioning her concern away.

Mary’s hand jittered as she got the car keys. Stan’s eyes followed her to the stairs leading to the garage. The next thing he heard was Mary’s footsteps scurrying up the stairs. She tossed his bag on the floor. “Here. Go freshen up Daisy.” Stan looked up from his coffee regarding her with bemusement. Mary never helped, but she had just done it. Without being asked. This was a big change in the brash blonde’s behavior. He’d have to talk to Eleanor about this. Stan handed her his cup and she took it to the sink and began washing dishes.

With Stan out of the kitchen, Marshall went to the sink and put his arms around Mary. Mary relaxed in his embrace, leaning back, pressing their bodies closer. “Great breakfast, ummm bacon.  Doofus, you know the way to this girl’s heart.” She sighed, and thought about what she’d just said. She’d never said that to any man.

“You got Stan out of the kitchen just so we could do this.” He turned her and began a soul searing kiss, tasting bacon, eggs, coffee and Mary. “Sneaky, Marshall, but you still have to dry.”She pulled away but he caught the towel she tossed. If she was going to hand him the ammunition, he was going to use it. He whapped her on the ass.

“Is that any way to treat your dishwasher?” Mary loved playful Marshall. He knew she needed a moment or two to clear her head.  He was just the man to give it to her. She turned back to the sink. “Lemme finish these.” He was aware her hands were in water and prepared for a splash, but she just washed.

“Humph, you’d rather have me dry dishes than make out? You’re such a girl,” he teased.

“Yeah, but I’m your girl.”  Mary grinned. “Let’s save that for later.” Mary was impatient, not the kind of person to put things off, especially things that involved mutual gratification. But she understood their current situation. Having Stan in the house and being on the run meant putting her personal needs on the back burner.  Reluctantly, Marshall dialed down his own need and finished drying and putting away what they had used. Then he checked the laptop.

The contents of the first flash drive had been verified. Marshall inserted the drive from Stan and went to check the perimeter.  Mary checked the garage and looked out the sniper window. It was a square opening in the cement block, with vertical bricks alternating with open spaces. Even in this climate, there was no glass in the openings. The garage required ventilation. Mary thought Marshall would compare the openings to the arrow slits on a castle. Mary whined about Marshall’s incessant outpouring of trivia, but couldn’t help remembering some of it. Some of it was useful. She realized Marshall without trivia wouldn’t be Marshall.

Stan came back into the kitchen in dress slacks and a clean shirt. He looked more awake. The three of them gathered around the laptop on the kitchen table. Stan made notes on a yellow legal tablet. Marshall showed them the results of his threat assessments and contact searches. Officially, Rosco was nowhere to be found. Unofficially, they had the private security video of Rosco and James Shannon. The warden from Evan’s prison said Evans was still in his cell. What is going on is between Jeburk, Rosco and James Shannon. Where are they?

The laptop beeped alerting them to a message from Eleanor. Marshall quickly established a secure VOIP connection. Stan leaned in. “Good morning. What have you got for us?”

_“Not much, I’m afraid. No other sightings of any of the principals. The AUSA is still investigating human trafficking at the container yard. After the ambush, all the containers connected to the shell company were searched. They found traces of drugs, but only traces so far. Many of the containers had office furniture.”_

“Desks?” asked Stan.

_“Umm yes.”_

“Did they open all the drawers and check the depth of the back panels on the desks?”

_“I’ll check on that.  I’ve run the financials on all the principals and found they were all investors in a firm connected to the Commission.”_

Despite Eleanor’s faith in Marshall’s security protocols, old habits die hard. She was careful not to mention any names over an open line. You never knew who could be listening. The ‘Commission’ was the mob’s ruling council.

_“There’s probably more than one shell company involved. I’ll do some more digging.”_

“Anything on how the Commission knew about the operation at the container yard?”

Marshall interrupted. “I may have a line on that. The Jersey Asset Forfeiture division has the lowest amount of seized assets reported. That doesn’t track with the property in the case reports.”

_“Interesting. I may have a way of checking on that.”_

Stan brought the session to a close with the promise of keeping in touch. Marshall created an encrypted email with the names and numbers he had found, and sent it to Eleanor asking her to get back to them as soon as she had anything.

Mary finished cleaning up the kitchen while Stan checked the perimeter. Marshall disconnected the laptop from the internet and worked. They regrouped before noon to decide what to do next.

“We have enough food for a few days, but we need to do something,” Mary was primed for action. All the driving, sleeping and sitting around made her anxious. Marshall and Stan were the planners. The discussion about what they should be doing was interrupted by the ringing of Marshall’s blackberry. Mary startled at the sound. She thought he had turned it off so they couldn’t be tracked.

“Hello.” Marshall listens then mouthed “Ruiz” to the others. The Detective has a tip about the guy who ordered Jinx kidnapping. It confirmed their suspicions about Lamarko Rosco. He’s been heard from, but no one admits to seeing him or knowing his whereabouts. Ruiz has passed his photo around to his CIs.

“Thank you Detective. Have you notified Chief Varney of this development?” Marshall inquired.

“No, no, there’s no need for you to call him. I’ll pass the word. Call or text me anything you get on the kidnapping or the assault on Inspector Shannon.”

After a few more uh huhs and I see Marshall hangs up.

Mary and Stan are both looking at Marshall and his phone. “I disabled the GPS and changed the SIM card,” he assures them. “It’s running on a different network. I won’t make calls on it, and receiving calls is a risk.  At their continued disbelief he adds, “It is possible to trace it, but it wouldn’t be easy. We need whatever Ruiz can get us. He doesn’t know our location.”

Stan sighed and nodded. “It’s worth the risk.” Mary still looks dubious, but didn’t give Marshall any grief. She appreciated his technical knowhow and has come to depend on it. It felt funny; wrong somehow to depend on someone for anything. It was quicker, and a whole lot easier just to let Marshall do the techy stuff. She had picked up a few tricks here and there, but Marshall knew the where and the why, not just the how.

Now that the files on the flash drive Stan brought have been checked, Marshall brought up the directory. Mary points to the screen. “What’s this one?”

“Looks like the visitor log from Evan’s prison.”  Marshall marveled. “Eleanor, Eleanor, Eleanor. This tis wondrous strange.”

Mary squints in irritation, aiming at him. After their time together she recognizes his Shakespeare references. “Just open the file, Doofus.”

“Who has been visiting the third member of their merry band?” Marshall muses. The document opens and loads. Two pages. Three. Twenty.

“Go to when Jinx was taken. Go forward from there.” Marshall complies and increases the view so they can all see the handwriting clearly. Most of the signatures are on the days designated for visiting.

“There.” Mary points to a scrawl on the fourth page they’ve examined. “That looks like Daddy’s handwriting.”

“Do you have something from him we can compare?” Stan asks. He knows the blonde Inspector hasn’t seen her father for years. Why would she be so familiar with his handwriting? He turns to ask Mary but she’s gone. She returns with a folded piece of lined notebook paper.

“Here,” she opens the paper and thrusts it next to the screen. “I’m no expert, but look at the way the capital J is written.”

Marshall chimes in with his observations. They conclude that the fake name appearing on the log could be that of James Wiley Shannon. When Mary looks up, Stan is holding his burner phone, contacting Eleanor, giving her the alias James Shannon used at the prison.

“Eleanor will run the name and send us a file with whatever she finds,” Stan informs them.

Marshall looked to Mary, wondering how she is taking the news. Mary’s face is an imperturbable mask. He knows being this close to her father has an emotional impact. He’s just not sure what emotion she is feeling. Anger usually comes first.

Eleanor has run the financials on the marshals of the Asset Forfeiture division in Newark. There are two who had a few unusual deposits to their accounts. She has discovered other bank accounts connected to the two. These have had a lot of traffic, funds in and then quickly out to off shore accounts. Is that the leak?

Mary, Stan and Marshall decide to tell Varney about the Forfeiture marshal’s bank transactions. Mary still trusts him, but knows anyone can be blackmailed, or coerced by threats to loved ones. Marshall checks on Varney’s family. His wife is dead, and his daughter lives in Colorado. Safe, it appears.

Mary picks one of their burner phones to call Varney. She gives him the names of the marshals involved. “Chief, the information comes from a reliable source. You should be able to find the problem yourself. Just do me a favor and check their financials, and all the financials that tie back to them.”

Varney knows they are no longer at the hotel near the Marshal office in downtown Newark. He knows better than to ask where they are. “Mary, be careful. Be safe.” She is touched by his concern and the caring she hears in his voice. So touched her eyes glisten with moisture.   _When did I become such a sap?_

“Sure, Chief, sure,” she tells him and ends the call. Marshall notices the shine in her eyes.

“I don’t like this,” Stan complains. “I don’t know Varney personally. He has a reputation for running a tight ship, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a snake under his command.”

“Telling Varney could shake loose any government involvement in the attacks,” Marshall argues.

Mary has a plan of her own. A plan to locate her father and wring any information out of him.

"My dad always knows where I am. He’s been keeping track of me for years. All we have to do is get out there where he can spot me. He’ll come to me. We know he was seen in Newark, but I doubt he’ll stay there. I’ll go to my Mom’s place in Paramus. He probably has some way of watching it. He’ll track me from there, and we’ll track him. He isn’t expecting three of us.”

 “Mare, no. You don’t know who is after your father. If the mob sees you with him they would have no compunction about hitting both of you. In their books it would be a twofer, a no brainer. Why flounder around when Eleanor might be able to tell us where he’s been?” 

 Not waiting for her reply, Marshall had another question. “You say your father always knows where you are. Is that why you had that letter?"

Mary nodded apologetically. 

"Marshall’s right, Mary,” Stan agrees. “Finding your father, being where he is, would put you in immediate danger. We don’t know where Rosco and Jeburk are. They could be with him, or they could be looking to eliminate him. I don’t want you caught up in this.”

“We have no reason to assume Rosco and Jeburk are together,” Mary asserts.

“From what I’ve seen in his file,” Marshall adds, “he prefers to work alone. Only bringing in others to run the job, not plan it.”

Mary gives Marshall a doubtful look. _When had he read her father’s file?_

Seeing Mary’s attention focused on him, Marshall says, “What? Do you mean to tell me you never checked out your father’s record?”

Mary nodded no. “As a family member, I didn’t want any suspicion attached to me. If Chief Varney had caught me doing that, what was he going to think? I was planning to help my Dad? I couldn’t take that chance.” Regardless of whether or not it was true, it was clear the thought worried her.

“All the more reason for you to stay out of this, Kiddo,” Stan argued.

 “Damn it Stan. Marshall keeps telling me I’m not alone in this. I’ve got you and him to back me up. Are you going to do it? It would mean the arrest of a federal fugitive,” she argued. She acted as if that were the primary reason for going after him. Her adamant insistence made Marshall blink. He had never seen Mary so focused, her anger tight, her expression cold.

Stan stood and paced, rubbing the top of his head. _No wonder he doesn’t have any hair left. He rubbed it off._

“We need to wait until we hear from Eleanor. When she locates him,” testifying to his confidence in Eleanor, “We’ll decide on safety protocols.” Mary sat back and sighed with relief. They were going to listen to reason. Her reason.


	17. Showdown at the Not-So-OK-Corral

Chapter 17 – Showdown at the Not-So-OK Corral.

 

Go bag in hand, Mary grabs the car keys before Marshall registers that they were leaving. He shrugs to Stan and gets his gear and Stan’s. He helps Stan shrug into his heavy winter jacket. Hurrying down the stairs, Marshall gets their bags in the trunk about the time Mary is starting to back out. Stan gets in the rear seat, and Marshall rides shotgun. They are all alert, scanning for tails.

Eleanor confirmed that someone using James Shannon’s alias has been staying at a Paramus motel. That decides their first stop, Jinx Shannon’s apartment. When they get to her mother’s neighborhood, Marshall and Stan slide down in their seats, making sure their faces are obscured by knit hats and the hoods of their winter coats. It would be best if her watchers thought Mary was alone.

“Awww Stan. You look like Biscuit,” Mary says in a sweet condescending voice. Stan was preoccupied with their mission, thinking about plans, safety, and Mary Shannon.

“What? Who is this Biscuit Inspector?”

“The stuffed bear I gave to my sister when she was little.”

Marshall checks the rearview mirror and has to admit that Stan’s quilted brown winter jacket and brown do make him resemble a stuffed bear. “Yeah, Stan, the fur sells it,” he adds.

Marshall has been fitting the data into some sort of explanation. He still needs answers about today. “Your mother has been rescued. Why would you be going to her place?”

“To get her stuff. She can’t leave in a hospital gown. The hospital records still show her as a patient.” Mary’s satisfied that for once, she is the one thinking things through.

“We know he’s staying nearby. He’s would expect me to help Jinx, bring her whatever she needs from home. He’s watching.”

“That does fit,” Stan admits. “The question is will he follow you.”

“He will because he wants to talk.” Mary wasn’t clear on what her father’s motive was. She just knew he was looking for her.

They spend the drive going over the different aspects of Jinx’s kidnapping and the attacks on Mary. Marshall thinks the SUV that hit her was the mob. Paddy’s attack could be a crime of opportunity, especially given his connections to the king pin of human trafficking in the region. Before Mary is ready, they are in Paramus.

The apartment complex is built of red brick, with around 40 units. Once parked, Mary enters the lobby. Marshall is uncomfortable having Mary out of sight. He consoles himself knowing she usually knows what she’s doing.

Mary’s key opens the plain wood door with the peephole she insisted Jinx install. She hasn’t been her for months.”Thanks Ma for leaving stuff the way I remember.” She finds the suitcase on her first try.

In the bedroom, Mary unzips the suitcase and paws through Jinx closet looking for warm weather clothing. She spots Jinx’s jewelry box and adds it to the suitcase. Underwear, shoes, hairbrushes, a handful of cosmetics and she is finished. Mary has packed for herself, and her witnesses. She knows what works and doesn’t spend any time debating what to take.

On her way out the door Mary spots a framed photo and picks it up. It’s the four of them. Jinx is holding baby Brandi. James stands next to Jinx and Mary is next to him, holding onto his hand. Once they were a family. Mary unzips the suitcase and shoves it in. Jinx isn’t a witness. She can be allowed this memory. Jinx’s suitcase joins theirs in the trunk.

Next stop is a neighborhood bar near her sister’s place. Mary walks in, looks around and orders sandwiches to go. She stays long enough to be noticed, hanging around the jukebox, watching the customers in its reflection.

As she leaves the bar, she scans the area. She opens the driver’s door and says “Here. Lunch.” Marshall has been watching out the passenger window. He scrambles to catch the sandwiches and passes one to Stan.

“Want some?” Marshall offered her half. He couldn’t remember Mary every buying lunch for anyone but herself. This time it kept her at the bar long enough for her to register on the bar tender and maybe some of the customers. She’d probably collect later.

“Not hungry,” she mutters, buckling up and starting the car. To a stranger she seemed to be driving around aimlessly. To someone who knew her family, she was checking all the places Brandi and Jinx frequented.

“What’s the next stop on the Shannon World Tour?” Marshall wanted to know.

“Garden State Plaza Mall,” Mary grunted, while fastening her seat belt. “There are a couple of stores and places to eat that Mom and Brandi like. I will get lunch there,” she smirked. She prefers the food choices at the mall.

“Look, Mary, here’s the way it has to go,” Stan insisted. He and Marshall had been discussing the best way to get Mary to allow Marshall to go with her. “You and Marshall enter the mall as a couple window shopping.” Marshall turned and gave her a toothy grin. “I will keep an eye on you from across the way.”

“So you’re going to be our stalker?” Mary interjected.

“Exactly,” Stan agreed. Stan didn’t mind the word. It fit what he would be doing – keeping an eye on his Inspectors. They were his responsibility.

Car parked not too far from the entrance, Mary unbuckled her seat belt. “You up for this Doofus?” Mary thought Marshall’s smile was ridiculously over done. She knew he was tickled to be able to act like a couple in front of Stan.

“Let’s roll,” was Marshall’s response.

Marshall and Mary entered the mall. He smiled and grabbed her hand. He swung their hands back and forth between them. “What are you? Five?” Mary groused adding a glare for good measure.

After strolling for fifteen minutes, they stopped at a decorative pillar near several restaurants apparently deciding where to eat. Mary pulled Marshall to the window where the menu was posted. Peering inside, her hand suddenly grips Marshall’s. He put his arms around her, lips near her ear, and moved them back.

“Who?” he whispered. Mary must have spotted someone.

“My father is heading for Ruby Tuesdays.” They retreated to the pillar; Mary puts it between them and her father.

“Did he see you?”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t think so. I saw his face in the window as he walked by.”

“Do you think he saw us together?”

“I don’t know but I need to do this alone. He won’t run if it’s just me.” Mary was sure.

“Wait.” Using their bodies as cover, Marshall kept his arms around Mary while texting Stan behind her back. James Shannon had entered the restaurant.

“How do you want to do this?” Marshall asked. Mary shrugged out of his embrace “I’ll think of something.” Marshall grabbed her hand and yanked her back. Her body rotated sharply. She stiffened.

“Not this time Sunshine,” Marshall’s voice is low but harsh and adamant. “We aren’t protecting a witness. There are a lot of innocent people in there. All we have is you, me and Stan. While I may be able to cover you when you improvise, Stan hasn’t been with you when you’ve pulled crazy ass stunts. We’ve got to get your father out of there.”

Mary twisted out of his grasp and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Marshall.

“Yes, I know. Your crazy ass stunts have worked, most of the time. But this time there are too many unknowns. Too many citizens at risk. You don’t know Rosco. You don’t know his mob contacts. You don’t know man who has been a federal fugitive for years.” He hadn’t raised his voice, but the intensity he gave every word let Mary know he was serious.

Mary dropped her arms and her face went from angry to upset.

“You know I’d risk my life for you any day, any time. I can’t let you put the woman I love in jeopardy. We can’t put Stan or anyone in that restaurant in harms way. So, think. Think of a way to get him out of there.”

Mary dropped her head, hair covering her face. She took a deep breath and walked closer to Marshall. “OK, OK. I’m thinking.”

“Besides if anything happened to Stan Eleanor would kill us,” Marshall added.

Mary chuckled, to release the stress of the moment. “You’re right. She would.”

“C’mere. C’mon. Come here.” Marshall pleaded holding his arms wide.

Mary took one step then another, allowing his embrace. She put her cheek on his chest, listening to the beating of his sweet heart. She couldn’t put him in harms way. Ever.

“Let’s go see Stan. See what he’s got. OK?” He bent down to look in her eyes, making sure she was going along with delaying her confrontation with her father. After almost 30 years, she could wait a few more minutes. _As long as he doesn’t get away._

They found Stan sitting on a bench near a large potted tree. Mary and Marshall embraced behind the plant, close enough to talk to Stan.

“James Shannon went into Ruby Tuesdays,” Marshall informed him.

“I’m going in. He wants to see me.” There was no discussion. Mary had made up her mind.

“No,” Marshall insisted, “no way.”

Stan listened to his two Inspectors batting ideas, plans, ploys and strategies, back and forth. He felt like a spectator at a tennis match. They weren’t giving him a chance to speak.

“I’ll go in, flash my badge and flush him out. Once he sees me he’ll head for the kitchen and the delivery door. You and Stan can meet him there.”

Stan likes it. “I think that would work. James knows you work for the marshals. He would be alert for others to be in the area. It could work.”

“It will,” Marshall insisted.

Mary looked dubious, but Stan was already contacting mall security, getting the location of the exterior door for the restaurant. “Keep this quiet. Don’t call the police; it will just alert the suspect. We will be quiet and none of your customers will know.”

Mall security didn’t take long to cave. They didn’t even ask to meet him. Stan gave his badge number for them to check, and that was that. Stan hung up, and Marshall headed for Ruby Tuesdays. Stan and Mary got a store owner near the restaurant to let them use the exterior door.

Marshall flashed his badge at the wait staff at the podium and calmly walked into the restaurant. He walked directly toward the table where James Shannon sat. Anyone watching Marshall could see who he was targeting. James Shannon sat close to the kitchen. Marshall was sure he had planned it that way.

Before Marshall could make eye contact, James Shannon rose and began sauntering toward the kitchen, keeping staff and customers between them. Marshall kept walking, bearing down on James like the Titanic. He eyes never left James. His lips were pressed tight and thin. It turned up when James ducked into the kitchen, as planned.

Marshall followed. He held his badge and muttered apologies to the kitchen staff. Carts, food, and white uniformed cooks were shoved in his way, but Marshall continued as if there were no barriers, nothing that could stop him for collaring James Wiley Shannon, federal fugitive. He’d lost sight of James but could hear the din of pans shoved to the floor.

The delivery door was in sight and quickly thrust open. A blast of snow bright light and cold air entered the kitchen. Marshall saw James silhouette, jumping down from the door to the loading area.

Marshall reached the doorway in time to see Mary move toward the fugitive, Stan at her back.

“Hello Daddy.”

 


	18. Father's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Shannon you are under arrest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading this story, I apologize for the delay. Is 6 weeks out of the country a good enough excuse? Sorry.

Chap. 18 – Father’s Day

Outside Garden State Plaza Mall

“James Shannon, you are under arrest.” Mary had dreamed of saying those words. Now that this dream had come through, she felt as if she were walking through gelatin. Sound, sight, touch all dialed back. Time itself slowed, then speeded up as she turned him roughly and slapped on the cuffs. The prisoner winced. The handcuffs were pinching his skin. _Too bad douche bag._

Marshall and Stan closed in on them, protecting Mary, making certain James Shannon didn’t try anything. Marshall saw Mary’s breath coming in gulps and gasps. He wanted to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t hyperventilate, but he couldn’t. James Wiley Shannon had to be the focus of his attention.

“James Shannon, you are in the custody of the United States Marshall Service for felony evading, bank robbery and kidnapping.” Stan informed him. Mary had never heard Stan sound so, so, in command. She could hardly believe her ears. _Everything in this situation is unbelievable. What’s one more?_

James flinched at the word kidnapping, but otherwise ignored Stan. He had eyes only for Mary. “Mary, Sweetheart. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know asshole.” Stan nodded to Marshall. “Hold him,” and stepped away, phone in hand making a call. Marshall grabbed James’ elbow with a control hold.

After a brief conversation Stan approached the trio. “Mary, do you know how to get to Jasper Road?”

“Off Ferndale, right?”

Stan consulted his phone. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Get the car. We’ve got him.” Mary quirked an eyebrow at him. Stan made a shooing gesture, assuring her that he did have a plan.

“He’s not going anywhere, Mare. Go.” Marshall assured her.

This time Stan sat up front. Marshall and James Shannon had the back seat. 221 Ferndale turned out to be a modest ranch style home, with a driveway that went behind the house, effectively hiding their car. It was conveniently empty, and unfortunately, unheated.

Once in the house, Marshall turned on the heat. Coats, caps and scarves stayed on. Gloves came off – the better to hold their Glocks. The small kitchen had a table and four chairs. James and Mary sat opposite one another. Stan and Marshall stood guard on either side.

“Mary,” her fathers’ voice was warm with welcome. “Look at you. What a beautiful woman you’ve become.” Mary wasn’t the only one glaring at the old reprobate.

_No thanks to you_ , she longed to say. She hoped the embarrassment that flushed her body would be mistaken for anger. She was embarrassed that this skinny, scruffy old man had provided half her biological material. If she could she would cut those parts out. It would have been less painful than the last thirty years.

“Did you have anything to do with the kidnapping of Jinx Shannon?”

“Whew! Right to the point. No beating around the bush, no how are you Dad, how have you been?”

“I don’t give a rats ass how you’ve been Daddy. Who took her? Who ordered the kidnapping?

“That wasn’t me, Sweetheart. Ginger was always easy on the eyes, but hard to live with. I never wanted any of you hurt. That’s why I left. To keep you safe.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Now answer the question. Who kidnapped Jinx?”

“I had nothing to do with that. You have to believe me. It might have been was Rosco. He thinks I have the money from our last heist. I don’t. Would I be living like this if I had?” His shabby appearance made the con man’s case convincing. Not that Mary bought it. Neither did Stan or Marshall.

“Why would Rosco kidnap Mom?” They needed to know what James knew, or what he thought he knew.

“I’m not sure. He may have been trying to flush me out. Getting you to Jersey was a bonus. He knew I’d want to see you.” James put his hand across the table, reaching for hers. Marshall moved closer. Mary sat back, moving her hand out of reach.

“How would he know that? Why would he think you wanted to see me?” Mary hadn’t seen her father since she was almost 7 years old. Had he seen her? How could he have done that? _If he had my address, he could have watched me._

“I talked about you. Told him how proud I was of you. He thought it was strange that I’d feel that way about having a child in law enforcement.”

“I’m not a child,” she spat. “I don’t believe you. If your lips are moving it must be a lie. Just like all the other lies you told me before you left.” Mary was angry with herself for being upset. Marshall’s brow furrowed in concern. Stan watched every move James made.

“Mary,” this time he sounded disappointed. “I know I . . .”

She wouldn’t let him finish. Instead she shouted, “Who’s trying to kill me?”

This time James straightened in his chair, not leaning towards Mary. “Kill you?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “I was run over by a truck, grabbed in an alley and attacked. Despite their attempts, I’m not dead. It wasn’t for lack of trying.”

“You were run over by a truck?” He looked at her with sympathy, checking for visible injuries. “You look good to me Sweetheart.”

“I was struck by a black SUV with tinted windows on the outskirts of Newark. Anyone you know, DAD?” This was the point in the interrogation where Mary should have sat back and let the silence drag an answer out of the prisoner. Stan knew it, Marshall knew it. On some level even Mary knew it. But the rage that propelled her for almost 30 years wouldn’t let her stop.

“In Newark, I met an old classmate. Paddy O’Connor. He and two of his homies dragged me into an alley. Thought they’d have some fun with a dumb blonde, and then sell her for ‘export.’ They got a broken nose, a shot up knee cap and jail instead.”

James winced when he heard the word export. He knew it meant sex trafficking. He almost smiled at the thought that his little girl had taken out three goons single handed. But his mind was still on the hit and run. He rubbed his stubble chin, deep in thought. “Black SUV? New model?” he asked, looking her way.

She nodded. Marshall had moved to stand directly behind James. James appeared compliant, but Marshall was taking no chances. He had read the file. James Shannon was as wily as his middle name. Mary’s father had his own reasons for wanting to see her. With his long arms and long legs, Marshall could stand close enough to reach the prisoner, while staying too far for the prisoner to reach him.

“Sounds like the mob. What you do to piss them off Sweetheart?” James Shannon showed he could fake sincerity with the best of them.

“I’m not your Sweetheart. Stop calling me that.” Mary had tried to ignore the endearment but continued repetition had eroded her shallow reserve of patience.

“Unlike you, DAD I have no dealings with the mob. Think. Why are they after me? What did you do that would make them think that kidnapping your wife and trying to kill a United States Marshal was a good idea?”

“You sure you haven’t put away any of the Jersey Commission, any relatives, connections?” James Shannon was thinking, examining the relationships in the Commission. “Are there any Commission members or members of their families that have dropped out of sight recently?”

Marshall raised an eyebrow at James’s question. He glanced at Stan to see if he knew the answer. If he did, Stan’s expression didn’t give it away. The only thing Stan knew is that they had to turn James Shannon into the authorities. Soon. The three of them could only hold him for a short time.

“I’ll ask the questions,” Mary snarled. “Who is trying to kill me?”

“I don’t know. If you let me make the rounds, I can ask. See what I can find out.”

Marshall spoke for the first time. “No. You are in custody and you will stay that way.” Marshall was deadly serious. Mary and Stan could hear the cold fire in his voice. Even James couldn’t miss the threat. “You are going to prison for the rest of your life.”

James response was mild. “No, no no. You don’t understand. Prison is ok. I’ll be safer in jail. The right jail.”

“And why is that Daddy? Who is after you?” Mary hadn’t gotten an answer to her last question, but the answer to this one might work.

“You know I never killed no one. I don’t like guns. There’s a rumor that I shot one of the guys on my crew almost ten years back. I swear I didn’t. I heard that the dead guy had some sort of mob connection. He wasn’t a made man, but he had a sister or cousin or something. When he was shot, the relation was told I pulled the trigger. It wasn’t me. I think his ‘partner’ the guy he brought in, shot him. Wanted a bigger cut of the action. Of course I can’t prove it. I didn’t see it happen. I never worked with him again. I got out of there as fast as I could.”

“So it is the mob.”Marshall shook his head. This was bad. The mobs connected all across the United States. Hell, across the world. If they all cooperated, Mary was as good as dead. He and Stan wouldn’t be far behind. Marshall had faith in the Marshal Service, but he could count. They would be outnumbered, out gunned.

“Not the real mob,”James replied earnestly. “Not the official Commission guys. It’s whoever this sister or relation could get from the mob to rub me out. The capos have no problem with me. I’m small potatoes.” James meant what he said.

“Dead is dead. Whether it’s the whole mob, or one guy, doesn’t make a bit of difference.” Marshall said.

Mary got up and walked behind the chair she’d used. She glared at the man who had been the cause of so much grief. Why had she given this worn excuse for a man so much power? She stopped her study of James and looked up at Marshall poised behind him.

Mary was struck by his fierce expression. There was no doubt in her mind that he would shoot James if necessary. Mary had no problem with that. None at all. She felt warmth flood her body as she saw the depth of his devotion.

The heater had begun starting to defrost the chilly house. The ducts creaked and popped as they warmed, and rumbled when the blower started. The marshals and James had reached the end of the road. Time to turn the bastard in.

Mary was standing, facing the front of the house when they heard screeching tires and a loud powerful engine. Marshall rushed to the front window staying to the side. At the first sound of gunfire, they all dropped to the floor. Bullets sprayed the door, the shattering the front window.

_Where in the hell is that sniper window when you need it?_ Mary had pushed the table over, using it for cover. James had moved to the wall, away from the doorway. Stan was on the other side of the door, gun drawn.

Mary’s heart clenched when she saw Marshall go down. _Doofus is ducking_. When the shooting stopped, the sound of the car faded. Mary stayed low and sprinted to where Marshall lay.

His eyes were open. His color's good. No blood that she could see. “Stay still. Let me look at you, get some of this glass off.” She brushed the shards carefully, starting with his face, then his hair.

“Good thing you got that poufy doo. It caught a lot of this crap.” When she had first met Marshall she thought his hair was ridiculous. Later she figured it was just some weird western style. Lately she had become quite fond of his hair. She flashed on grabbing handfuls of it to get his lips to hers.

She moved down to his collar, clearing the pieces of glass. She swallowed nervously but her hands were steady. Marshall started to stand up when Mary cried “Wait, wait.” Another long glass piece was caught between the collar of his long coat and his scarf, a sharp point aimed at his Adam’s apple.

“That piece would have meant the end of your trivia talks,” she murmured, relieved to have it gone.

“Don’t tell me that isn’t what you always wanted,” Marshall retorted.

“No, cowboy, not that way. Never like that.” She opened his shirt collar and ran her fingers around his neck. Once she gave him the all clear; he picked up his gun and stood up.

Back in the kitchen, Mary was met by quite a sight. Stan, gun drawn, with their prisoner on his knees in front of him.

Mary blew out a breath. “What in the hell was that?”

“Did you see the car?” Stan asked. Marshall shook his head, no.

“Who knew we were here?” Mary looked to Marshall. “Stan, you and I were ok at the other place. You checked us for tracking devices. Stan checked the car. That only leaves two possibilities. Your cell was tracked or,” she turned to her father, “you brought them. They lo-jacked you.”

Stan righted the table. “Put your hands on the table. Marshall, search him. Check his pockets.” James looked bewildered.

“Do it now, asshole,” Mary shouted, shoving her Glock in his face. He jerked and laid his hands still cuffed, flat on the table. Marshall peeled off James’s coat, checking the pockets, the lining, every seam. When he finished he handed it to Stan, who checked again. Next Marshall took everything out of the pants pockets, ran his hands down James legs and pinched the hems at the bottom of his jeans.

Pat down done, Marshall pushed James onto a kitchen chair, quickly released cuffs, yanked his arms behind his back and refastened the hand cuffs. Zip ties attached the cuffs to the back of the wooden chair. They were all shaken and he was taking no chances.

“What have we got here?” Stan used the muzzle of his gun to spread the stuff from James pockets. There were coins, a room key card, a gum wrapper and lint.

“I need my bag. Then we’ll know,” Marshall stated.

“I’ll get it,” Mary said. “You two keep an eye on him.” She had to get out of there, do a perimeter check, anything to shake off the reaction to being the target in a shooting gallery. When she returned from the car, everyone was in the same position, like a kid’s game of Freeze.

“Here’s your magic bag, Wizard. Do your stuff.”She watched as he put on the light mounted on a headband. Mary thought it made Marshall look like a Transformer. _Is there a searchlight Transformer?_

Marshall had more than a head mounted light in his go bag. He got out the probe he used on her Blessed Mary medal. Carefully watching the tiny display, he saw it spike when he ran it over the change that came from James’s pants pocket.

Stan’s eyes and gun had never left James. Mary split her attention between Marshall and her father.

“I think this is the culprit,” Marshall announced. He moved one quarter away from the rest of the coins.

“Aw, hell,” James exclaimed.

“Think,” Mary demanded. “Where did you get that quarter? You didn’t have a lot of coins in your pocket. Where did you get change?”

“Retrace your steps. Did you have those coins yesterday?” Marshall prompted.

James head hung forward. With his arms behind him he couldn’t lean far.

“Start with yesterday morning,” Stan urged. “Where were you then?”

James recounted the last two days. He was staying at a small cheap motel. He didn’t have a car so he took the bus to the mall today. The day before he had stayed near the motel. There was a bar and pancake house within walking distance. He went there for breakfast and dinner. He could have gotten the quarter at either place. He didn’t have a chance to order lunch today.

“Someone knows you were staying at that motel,” Mary declared

“We’ve got to get out of here before your buddies come back to see if the jobs done,” Marshall said.

Remembering what Marshall had done with the tracker on her medal, she asked Marshall, “What should we do with this?” She held up the coin with the bug.

“Much as I’d like to stick it on a transit bus, and have them follow it all over town, it’s best if we leave it here. Dead people don’t move around much.”

“Right,” said Stan. “Let’s move.”

Marshall slit the zip ties holding James to the chair and half led, half dragged him out the back door. He jammed him into the car without undoing the cuffs. James took the abuse without comment. He’d had worse, and if that mob guy had got to him, it would have been much worse.

Mary got back in the driver’s seat. The restorod started immediately. She raced the motor, and checked the instruments. “We should stop for gas. Now, before they figure out we survived.”

None of the marshals wanted to say it, but the fact that they were attacked at the safe house Eleanor had provided meant she was compromised too. Stan was not a happy camper.


	19. Wherehouse warehouse?

Chap. 19 – Where house, Warehouse

 

Before the bartender can blink, Marshal has him by the elbow and is ‘escorting’ him to the back office at the rear of the dimly lit bar. The guy is starts to yell, but something Marshal mutters into his ear gets him to shut up. Stan, and Mary follow with James between them. None of the customers seem interested.

 

The office is tiny. There is barely room for the five of them, a large desk, two chairs and a tall file cabinet. A small window looks out onto the parking lot. Not many cars today. Too early, too bright and cold for the drinking crowd.

 

Mary watches Stan check the hall, then ease the door closed. Marshall shoves the bartender into the chair behind the desk, towering over the bartender. Out of the corner of her eye Mary sees James lean toward the desk. She hooks her arm around his neck, pressing her forearm against his Adam’s apple. “That wasn’t very smart, DAD. Stand down or my boot heel and your foot will be occupying the same space. And I’m not going to carry you. You’ll be limping into prison.”

 

James gurgles, swallowing hard to escape the pressure. Finally he croaks, “OK. OK.,” and leans away from the desk, and Jerry. Across the desk, Marshall catches her eye, his concern ballooning. Mary ignores him.

 

Mary is familiar with anger. It energizes her. This, her Dad in a choke hold is different. She doesn’t burn with anger. She is cold. Colder than the Jersey winter. Her actions, her thinking, seem effortless. She’s sliding on ice, heading to destination still unknown.

 

“So, you do know this guy.” Mary loosens her hold on her father.” Where did you two lovebirds meet?” The silence is deafening “Don’t everyone answer at once.”

 

The bartender looks at James, eyes narrow with hate. “Aw, did you two break up?” she asks her father. Clearly James is no friend.

 

“Marshall grabs the bartender by the ear, twisting it painfully. “We haven’t been introduced, what’s your name, your real name?” When the bartender continues his silent treatment, Marshall yanks him up. Once he’s standing hands against the back wall, Marshall thrusts his hands into the man’s’ pockets. “Let’s see what the evidence fairy brought us.”

 

“Look, I’m just the bartender here. I try to keep my nose clean and do whatever the owner tells me,” he pleads. It’s chilly in the office, but beads of sweat form on his forehead. “The customers are going to be looking for me.”

 

Marshall pulls keys, change and a wallet from the man’s pockets. He dumps the contents onto the desk.  
Opening the wallet, Marshall reads the name on the New Jersey driver’s license. “Larry Kurtz. The picture doesn’t do you justice.” Marshall puts the drivers license on the desk so Stan and Mary can see it. It isn’t their man. Shuffling through the cards in the wallet, Marshall comes up with two other licenses, one from New York and one from Illinois.

 

“Real name,” Marshall’s voice is low, the words escaping through clenched teeth.

 

James, restrained for now, supplies, “His name is Jerry Kozinski. Eddie Pfaff owns this dump. He’s connected to the Sacra Corona branch of the mafia. I don’t know who his boss is. I don’t know why they want me.”

 

“I do,” Stan supplies. He looks from Jerry to James, calculating. “Wonder which one of these two humps the boss wants dead. Maybe he figured they would do one another. Save him the trouble. Since that didn’t happen,” Stan continues thoughtfully, “we can make it happen. We leak enough of the wrong info to the right people and *bang* the mob will take care of these humps for us.” Stan takes a step toward Jerry, then turns and walks toward James, all the while nodding his head. “Uh huh,” that’s the way this will go.”

 

Mary looks appraisingly at Stan. The quiet, mambo dancing Chief never raised his voice to her. Never threatened a witness. He was doing it now, and doing it better than Mary. Despite enjoying bad ass Stan, she holds up a hand, asking for time. “Did your boss order the hit on me?”

 

Marshall adds a wrist lock to his ear twist. “Answer her.”

 

“No, I don’t think so,” he grunts, in pain. “He didn’t order a hit.”

 

“Explain,” Mary demands.

 

“He said he didn’t care one way or the other. It was a side job. A friend of his asked. He wanted the blonde marshal. Said she was worth a lot of money.”

 

“And who is this ‘friend,’” Marshall put more pressure on the bartender’s wrist, making him wince and groan.

 

His “I don’t know” is followed by a yelp of pain. “Some guy, a big guy, not tall, y’know but big. Early thirties, maybe. He wears expensive clothes. He usually wears a long black coat and white scarf. Comes here once in a while. I think,” he pauses to gulp, realizing the serious consequences of telling the marshals anything. “I think he checks on the place for the boss.”

 

Mary throws a worried look toward Stan. “We can’t let him go. He can identify us.”

 

“But he won’t. Right Jerry boy?” Marshall says to the sweating bartender. “You’d be in more trouble for failing to lead them to us.”

 

“I can keep a secret,” Jerry replies.

 

“Really Jerry? Prove it.” Marshall demands. Jerry’s back arches as he tries to relieve the pain in his wrist. Marshall isn’t sure where this is leading, but he wants the reason behind the attacks on Mary. He needs her to be safe.

 

“There’s a loose floor board under the desk. The real books are kept there. Dates, amounts, and customers.” Marshall looks to Stan to see if that’s good enough. Stan nods, and Marshall releases Jerry. “Ow.” Jerry rubs his ear, flattening it back against his head.

 

“Under the desk Jerry. Get the books,” Stan ordered.

 

The large man barely fits under the desk. Marshall encourages him, pushing on his backside till he yelps. His head makes a loud thump as it hits the modesty panel. He curses. The next sound is the squeak of a floor board being coaxed up. Jerry hands the ledger to Marshall before getting out.

 

Stan picks up the slim gray book. “We’ll get these back to you,” Stan promises. “Unless word about our visit gets around.”

 

Jerry starts to leave when Marshall points his Glock at the change. “Take it.” Jerry scrapes the change into his hand and puts it back into his pants pocket. Sliding past Stan, he stays as far away from James as he can.

 

“Now what?” Mary asks. “Where does that get us?”

 

James tells her. “The Sacra Corona run the sex trade. What they lack in numbers they make up in brutality. Keeping women at the container port is just their style. Run the names, the connections are there.”

 

“So, they’re the ones trying to kill me?” Mary asks.

 

“No,” James tells them. “They are the ones trying to kill me. I don’t think they knew you existed till Ginger was taken. I don’t think they were trying to kill you. If they had, you’d be dead. It’s like the guy said, they wanted you, alive.”

 

“They want me? Huh.” Marshall’s fear for Mary’s safety makes him grab James elbow in a control hold. James grunts when he puts pressure on it. Mary’s run in with Paddy O’Connor was no accident. He was waiting for her.

 

“You think Rosco is working with them?” Mary asks, unable to see how the pieces fit.

 

“No, no.” James grunts at the pressure. “Rosco knows better. He told me he has contacts with the Sicilian mafia in Jersey. He went to them for front money. They always collect on a debt.” James looks around nervously. “We need to get out of here.”

 

“He’s right. We’re going now. Right Dad,” she adds as she puts pressure on his wrist pushing him out the door and into the dim hallway.

 

Back in the office, Marshall checks the office. He’d love to take the place apart, but without a warrant, anything they found would be inadmissible. Stan hands Marshall the ledger. That could give them the connections, the answers they need. It fits easily into one of his inner pockets. He sees Stan eying the burner phone apprehensively.

 

“Here,” Stan looks up, and slides the phone back into his pocket. Mary is already hustling James out the back door to the car. Marshall tosses Stan a phone. “New?” he asks. Marshall nods. “You bought extras,” Stan’s approves.

 

“Like Mary says, I’m the Boy Scout. Always prepared. Meet you at the car.” He ducks out of the room, eager to catch up with Mary. He doesn’t want to leave her alone with her father. The combination is too volatile. Being with him is winding Mary tighter and tighter. She’s getting ready to pop, but it can’t be now.

 

Alone in the small office, Stan calls Eleanor. Despite not recognizing the number, Eleanor picks up. He relays the information from James. She has back tracked her last safe house request. Stan is relieved to hear that all her contacts are secure. They talk for less than a minute.

 

Marshall shoves James into the back seat of the sedan. Mary is watching James in the rear view mirror. Seeing James shiver makes her think of winters in Jersey. Cold days in an apartment with no heat. Jinx warm with whiskey. All of them huddled under the blankets till it was time to go ‘shopping.’ All the shops were warm. She starts the car to get the heater going.

 

Waiting for Stan, Marshall and Mary watch for movement of any kind. They parked behind the bar, close to the rear door, and out of sight of anyone pulling into the parking lot. She eases the car to the corner of the building so they can watch the driveway. Mary is watching the back door of the bar when James points to the black SUV entering the parking lot out front. A fleshy young man in a black overcoat and white scarf get out of the car and enter the bar.

 

“That didn’t take long,” Mary’s knee jitters against the keys in the ignition. “C’mon Stan.”

 

“That’s the guy I saw near my motel,” James says. “That’s the dumb shit that tried to run my Mary down.”

 

Mary growls when James says ‘my Mary.’ She drives to the SUV. Marshall checks the fender. “There’s a dent and scrape on the right front fender.” Could be from you, Sunshine. Bet your badge made the scrape.” To Mary his flat tone is revealing. He uses that tight voice when he’s overcome with emotion. She’s heard it when they make love. She prefers to hear it only then, not now, with her father in the car, and another takedown to come.

 

James reaches for the door handle but Marshall, next to him in the back seat, is quicker. “No you don’t.” No way he’s letting the man who scarred Mary out of his sight.

 

“I got the plates,” Mary assures him. “We wait for Stan.” She knows Marshall is waiting for Stan. It’s her father who needs to be told. Mary drives around the SUV then stops for the back of the bar just as Stan appears. She leans over, opening the passenger door and he slides in.

 

“Well?” The puzzle pieces are beginning to fall into place, but there are still blank spots. Maybe Stan has the rest of the pieces.

 

“It wasn’t Eleanor. Her contacts check out clean.”

 

“Which means it was the coin we found on James.”

 

“Yes.” Stan has seen the SUV. “What’s going on.”

 

“That’s the car that hit me. The driver just went into the bar. He’s the man my Dad saw at the bar the other night. He thinks the guy followed him.”

 

“That him?” Stan gestures toward a guy in a long black coat getting into the black SUV. Stan and Marshall slide down. Marshall pushes James’s head down and Mary curls over the steering wheel, watching through the steering wheel. The SUV’s warm exhaust creates a cloud in the cold air as it screeches into gear and tears down the street.

 

“Son of a bitch.” Mary hunches over the steering wheel, peering out the window. She peels out after him.

 

“Aren’t you being a bit obvious, Mare?” Marshall hopes to slow her down, postpone the inevitable. He wants this guy as badly as Mary, as badly as Stan. The three of them are hobbled by James and have no plan, no back up.

 

“Shut up,” she warns. “Let’s see how you like being tailed, mother humper.” She leans back, rotating her neck and shoulders, preparing for the chase. She is comfortable with her usual role, the hunter.

 

This is a dangerous game, one neither Marshal nor Stan want to play. James has leaned forward, peering out the windshield, as eager as his daughter.

 

They’ve left the main roads and are driving into an industrial area. Traffic is light. The ice on the road is gone. Mary speeds between the hulking buildings, down alleys, paralleling the road. The SUV driver knows is leading them through a maze of storage buildings. A few container trucks are parked along the road, but parking lots near the buildings are small, and for the most part, empty. “Dad, do you know who he is? Is he the one who loaned Rosco the money?”

 

Before James can answer, the SUV stops at the loading dock of another anonymous warehouse. “He’s either got backup inside or is an overconfident douche bag,” Marshall surmises. Mary’s voting for douche. The SUV is alone in the parking lot. No roof of the building is coated with snow. No heat in that building. Cold storage indeed.

 

Marshall looks wistfully at the roofline. From up there he could see what’s in store for them. Mary jerks the car into park, throws the door open and runs to the steps of the loading dock. As Mary gets close to the entrance, Stan drags James with him. Marshall catches up with her, and stands in front of her by the door. She scowls, but allows Marshall to go first. Their exhalations form gray clouds in the late afternoon air. They are clotted at the doorway, close. James is too close for Mary’s comfort. He whispers into her ear,“Give me a gun, Sweetheart.”

 

“No.” She doesn’t have time for this. “The DoJ doesn’t allow guns for felons,” Mary tells her father. Her attention is on the warehouse door, waiting for word, waiting for Marshall. Stan is surveilling the area, and the roof tops.

 

Mary’s shoulders drop in relief when Marshall returns. “We’re too exposed out here, but it’s not much better inside. There are rows of wooden packing crates where anyone could hide. I don’t like it.”

 

“We don’t have to like it.” Mary growls and lunges through the doorway. Marshall gives Stan his ‘what could I do’ shrug. Stan, Marshall and James have no choice but to follow. Windows set near the roof allow the weak winter light into the dark dusty building. They spot Mary bent and crab walking skimming the crates near the wall. There are stairs leading to a catwalk ahead. Looking up, they can see a paneled wall and a closed door promises an office, records, evidence. Marshall is right behind her.

 

“Looks real cozy,” Mary whispers hoarsely. “Nice place for a shootout.” Knowing Marshall will cover her, and Stan has James, Mary quietly climbs the steps putting her weight only on the section closest to the wall, praying it won’t squeak. Despite her precaution the structure groans. Already she can look over the crates. She looks up then at Marshall. He gives her the thumbs up and keeps going. Halfway up Mary looks down. She catches a gleam to his left. “Gun,” she shouts. _So much for the stealth approach._

 

From her perch on the stairs, Mary takes a moment to check out the rest of the warehouse. Going higher will expose her, but give her a better view. She goes up. Stan whispers to Marshall, “What the hell is she doing?”

 

“High ground, Stan.” It’s the obvious move. That’s what has Marshall worried. It’s too obvious. Mary is too exposed. When he looks back, Mary is on the catwalk, checking for the shooter. She startles when Marshall and Stan tumble some crates, sending rats squeaking and birds fluttering. They create an alcove of crates. Protection, but also a dead end.

 

“Marshall, right,” she shouts, and then a shot rings out. Mary has spotted two thugs dressed in black closing on the men. She gets a clean shot at one guy. He is down, if not out. Marshall scales the cartons and takes aim at the man in the long black overcoat approaching from the opposite direction. Instead of shooting Marshall, he aims up, at Mary. Marshall glances to the catwalk but Mary isn’t there. The door is ajar.

 

In the office Mary is opening drawers slamming them shut. In the center drawer she finds a single sheet of paper with the word ‘exports’ at the top. She lays it on the desk and takes a picture, then replaces it in the desk. Hearing noises downstairs, she leaves to check on her friends.

 

Marshall and Stan look up when they hear a deep rumbling sound. A desk chair is rolling across the steel grating of the catwalk. Mary is crouched behind the chair. She checks the warehouse floor. Mr. Black Topcoat is still moving, advancing on her friends, her Marshall. She squeezes off two shots, but neither connect with her nemesis. He keeps Marshall and Stan pinned down and arrives at the bottom of the stairs.

 

Mary pushes the heavy desk chair down the steps and follows it. It tumbles and the black overcoat tries to move aside. He’s too late. The chair connects and knocks him down like a bowling pin.

 

Marshall and Stan provide covering fire as Mary squeezes under the hand rail and drops to the warehouse floor. Marshall calls out the location of one shooter when a third man appears. He’s aiming at Marshall. Mary and Stan provide a barrage of bullets while Marshall vaults over a carton. He lands lightly on the floor, flexing his knees and ducking a bullet. Mary reloads and goes after the shooter with both guns, angry beyond words that someone would try to shoot Marshall. She gets that guy, but there is another one.

 

“Where did that mother humper come from?” Mary shouts. She dives toward Marshall. They form a firing square, guns facing out. _Where did James get a gun?_ The foursome move together, a gun pointing in each direction, firing as they go. The square dissolves when they get to the door. There’s no time to check outside before they tumble out onto the loading dock, and run for the car.

 

Once in the car, Mary barks. “Where’s James?”

 

“Just go, we’ll get him later,” Marshall says. “Go,” Stan confirms. Two more men are at the warehouse door, heading down the steps, guns drawn. “He’s got an AK47. Go, go, go,” Marshall pounds the seat back.

 

Outgunned, Mary peels out of the parking lot. This time she stays on what passes for a road. No alleys, just a straight paved street. All three marshals scan for any activity, and James. Mary drives a few blocks and parks behind another warehouse. She jerks the car to a stop, disgusted.

 

“Are you crazy?” It’s not clear if she’s talking to Marshall or Stan. “How could you let him get away? He’s a fugitive. It’s our job . . .” She notices that Marshall is unaffected by her outburst. Even Stan seems nonplused. Something is going on. They know something she doesn’t. She glares at Stan, then focuses her fierceness on Marshall.

 

Marshall gives her his best crocodile smile. “I put a tracker on him. We can pick him later, after the cavalry arrives. This time we don’t have to hijack someone else’s trace.”

 

“Oh.” That does seem better than getting shot at by the thugs at the warehouse. She should have known Marshall had a plan for just this contingency. Mollified, she leans back and listens to Stan giving his badge number and reporting shots fired to the locals. Jersey marshals are his next call. Soon the street is swarming with black and whites. Stan handles the police, Marshall and Mary stand apart from the hubbub, keep watch and reloading their guns. Mary nudges Marshall in the ribs, getting his undivided attention.

 

“Where did James get a gun?” Mary asks.

 

“Must have picked up one from the guys we shot,” Marshall surmises. “I didn’t give him one.”

 

The warehouse is searched, but even the guy Mary is certain she hit is gone. Only shell casings and bullet holes and blood remain. The local PD leave as darkness descends. The marshals return to the Jersey Annex.

 

Stan and Varney are talking in Varney’s office. Marshall gets his laptop set up and runs his tracker program to find James. Being shot at makes Mary hungry. She raids the vending machines, and joins Marshall at the desk in front of Varney’s office. Marshall glances toward her when a cup of coffee appears on the desk. It’s joined by a day old Danish which looks delectable to Marshall.

 

Mary pulls up a chair and watches the screen. Stan joins them. “He’s on the move.” Marshall points to the moving dot. Stan and Mary focus on the screen.

 

“Damn, what is he doing going back there?” Stan is second guessing himself. “We should have stayed.”

 

“Without the tracker we wouldn’t know he was there, and we’d be sitting ducks for the rest of the thugs,” Mary reminds him. She’s zipping her jacket, already heading toward the elevator.

 

“Go with her Stan. Call me and keep the line open.” Marshall hands Stan two earpieces already tuned to the frequency he will squawk. Marshall is torn. His place is with Mary. Chief Varney sees Mary leave. Marshall quickly fills him in. The Chief swears, grabs some equipment and runs after Stan and Mary. He asks one of the marshals in the bullpen to call the garage and have them hold Mary and Stan.

 

Marshall jerks when the walkie talkie on the desk next to him comes alive with static. It’s Stan. Varney intercepted them and has gotten another marshal to come with them. This time they’re in a shielded transport vehicle with vests. “We’ll get him, Marshall. Mary will see to that,” Stan assures him.

 

The ride back to the warehouse seems to take forever to Mary. She wants this over. She wants her Dad in jail. She wants, she wants. She and Stan are in the back seat. Stan thinks he hears a sob. That couldn’t be Mary. He sees her hand, wiping her eyes. Stan tentatively pats her on the arm. “We’ll get him, Mary. We’ll get him.”

 

Mary is appalled. This fugitive doesn’t deserve her tears. _But it’s Daddy_. Her seven year old voice reminds her. _Snap out of it. Dammit Shannon, focus._

 

Their earpieces come to life. “He’s stopped. He’s inside the same building, about 10 yards from the door.”

 

Stan, Mary and Varney run from the SUV to the warehouse. Mary is focused on the door. Stan and Varney and the other marshal scan the area. Mary yanks open the door only to be greeting by blackness. Varney, close behind her, gets out a flashlight and takes the lead. Ear pieces in place, Stan and Mary follow, crouching below the level of the crates, their guns in a two handed grip, pointing down.

 

They work their way between the aisle of crates. “You’re there,” Marshall’s voice tells them. “You’re right on top of him.”

 

“It’s not him, Marshall. It’s the guy in the black topcoat.” It’s not James Shannon. The man in the black wool overcoat is lying on the warehouse floor. A pool of blood seeps from his head. The group pauses, listening for attackers. Only the sound of the building are heard. Varney and Stan focus their lights on the man. A profound “son of a bitch” echoes in their earpieces.

 

Mary approaches up to the body. She squats. The man’s right hand is resting on his chest. His hand holds down a square of white paper. A metal button from a pair of jeans lies on top of the paper. Stan points to the button.

 

“We found your tracker Marshall.” Mary shines her light on the paper careful not to touching it. The walkie talkie squawks. Marshall’s voice is getting louder as he demands to know what is going on. Mary doesn’t hear a thing. She’s reading the latest letter from her father.

 

_You’re safe Sweetheart. Go live your life. Give me and Ginger lots of grandbabies. I wish you the sun, the moon. You have found your own star. Love, Daddy._ There is a crude drawing of a US Marshal badge above the signature.

 


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the chase.

Chapter 20 -Epilogue  
Stan, Mary and Marshall had returned to Albuquerque. Mary took two days to get her mother and sister settled. She helped her mother find some job possibilities. Brandi, surprised Mary by asking for help enrolling in school. Once Marshall explained that an esthetician had nothing to do with sex, just sex appeal, Brandi was interested. 

Brandi and Jinx were living in Mary’s snug one bedroom apartment in Old Town. It was a tight fit, but Jinx planned to move into a place of her own as soon as she could afford it. So far so good. Marshall could tell Mary was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for her mother to crawl back into the bottle, waiting for Brandi to drop out.

Without telling Mary, Marshall arranged for a friend to get Jinx to AA meetings. It hadn’t worked yet, but the friend, a nice looking man close to Jinx’s age, was making some progress. It didn’t hurt that he found Jinx attractive. Jinx was as silly as a school girl around her new beau. Mary rolled her eyes and held her breath.

The information in the ledger had been crucial to making a case against Jonathon Fuentes, the sex trafficker. The ledger itself wasn’t used, but it was instrumental in getting enough evidence for a search warrant. The police found several women in a container at the port. They had been smuggled into the country. All this helped build the case against Fuentes.

The attempts on Mary’s life still worried Marshall. There were too many loose ends. Too many uncertainties. If the note James left was true, the threat against Mary had been handled. But how would James know? How could Marshall be certain?

Mary, Marshall and Stan were given appointments with Dr. Shelley Finkel, and stuck on desk duty until cleared. Mary barely tolerated the department shrink, but both Stan and Marshall accepted that Dr. Finkel’s evaluation was necessary. Field officers must be fit for duty psychologically as well as physically. Marshall knew mind and body were connected and badgered Mary until she went with him to the gym. On days they didn’t hit the gym, they ran. It was fun to run with Mary. For her it was a competition. Trying to beat Marshall got her in great shape. A shape Marshall greatly appreciated.

With Stan’s blessing, Marshall had tried to get Mary to away from her family for a long weekend, somewhere warm. Mary resisted going too far and they compromised on a cabin in the Sandia Mountains with a big fireplace. Mashall plied her with good food and her favorite scotch. Mostly he waited for her to talk to him about her father.

Underneath her brash bluster, Mary wasn’t sure how she felt. She never quite made the switch from Daddy’s girl to her own woman. Marshall worked hard to build her self esteem. He never let her win just to make her feel better. Mary’s competitive spirit and hard work gave her wins enough. When she doubted whether they should be together, he reminded her of the dreams they shared before they met. He even shared some of his own dreams, dreams of a family, which he hoped, in time, she would share.

When she didn’t immediately shoot him down, he held his breath, waiting for her to be ready. He even told her he’d wait forever.

“That’s not fair to you, Doofus.”

“Can’t help it Sunshine. That’s just the way I roll,” he had smiled at her tenderly.

Unable to help herself, Mary had reached over and kissed him soundly. The soft rug in front of the fireplace proved to be the perfect spot for their lovemaking. In the afterglow Mary had said “You might have something there.” Hearing her admit to the possibility of something more lifted his spirits and doubled his determination. The blonde, impetuous, brash, spouter of epithets would be his.

He had smiled. In his head he could hear her say “Don’t say epithets.”

After their long weekend, they each had an appointment with Shelley. Marshall was tickled by Mary’s reaction to Shelley’s more than professional interest in him. Mary was jealous! Marshall was relieved. They and Stan were cleared for active duty.

Stan had heard that Paddy O’Connor’s had agreed to testify against Fuentes. The MS13 would kill him even if he didn’t testify. This way he would have some protection, even if he didn’t think the US Marshal’s could keep him alive in the long term. Paddy had cut his losses and was taking what he could get. The AUSA had agreed to put him in Witness Protection. He’d be in prison first, but a secure section. Stan called his FBI contact making certain they knew that after what happened in New Jersey, O’Connor was never to step foot in Albuquerque. Later, Stan realized, he should have had Eleanor verify the arrangement.

Mary and Marshall had been back at work three days. Three days of Mary baiting Eleanor, spitball battles, bickering and a near food fight. Stan had forbidden food fights when he put his foot down on a french fry and slipped almost hitting his head on the edge of Marshall’s desk. The fact that Mary snickered was the last straw. Marshall vowed to toe the line, and said he would make sure Mary would too. In other words, the office was back to normal.

On the fourth day, Marshall and Mary were both at their desks, when they saw Stan take a phone call in his office. May couldn’t help but watch the show. First he stood up so quickly he knocked his chair over. Then he paced and rubbed his balding head. Then he shouted into the phone. Closed door or not Mary and Marshall heard Stan yell “Idiot” before slamming the receiver down.

“I never knew Stan’s bald spot turned red,” Mary observed, lips pursed.

As soon as he hung up, Stan stormed out of his office. He ran to Mary’s desk, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of her chair. “Stan,” she yelled. 

Then Stan motioned Marshall to follow.

“What the hell, Stan. What are you doing?” Mary protested.

He herded them toward the security gate but then dragged Mary sharply to the right. He opened the door to a janitor’s closet Mary had never noticed. She thought the grey door handle was a hanger or something. While Mary is voicing her unhappiness with being manhandled, Stan pushes her into the closet and shoves Marshall in after her. Then he slams the door.

“Ah, the light goes out when the door closes,” Marshall stated the obvious. “Very energy efficient.”

Before he could say anything else, Stan yelled “Be quiet. Not a word. Not a sound.”

Both Marshall and Mary were too startled to say anything. Especially given the stern warning from Stan.

Marshall shrugged. He could think of something to occupy their time in the dark. No talking needed. He put out a hand, feeling around for his partner. Finding her shoulder he felt his way down to her thigh. Then he slid his hand up and up and up, only to find his wrist locked down by Mary. Closing his lips tight to prevent a groan from escaping, he manages to shake her off.

When Marshall hears the security gate open and Stan roar, he gives up on groping Mary, and shoves her hand away from his fly. He puts his ear to the door. He’s never heard Stan ream out anyone the way he was reaming out the... Wait a minute. An FBI agent. What? The shouting continues for another minute, followed by the sound of the security gate opening and closing. Again.

A few minutes later, the door to the storage closet opens, and Stan sheepishly lets them out.

“Stan,” Mary asks, half questioning, half threatening. She stands tall, next to Marshall. Her arms are crossed and the toe of her boot is tapping. She’s waiting, but not patiently. Marshall looks bemused.

Stan is muttering expletives targeting a particular FBI agent, his boss and the Fucking Bunch of Idiots in Washington and Albuquerque. And anywhere else that had anything to do with the cockup that set him off.

“Paddy O’Connor rolled on the sex trafficking capo. He’s in Witness Protection,” he admits, disgusted that the man who had attacked Mary Shannon had gotten a deal. Not only did he know Mary Shannon was a marshal, he knew her real name.

Marshall swore he could see the steam coming out of Stan’s ears as he described the huge security breach. “The deputy at the front desk called me.”

“We should buy that guy a bundt cake,” Marshall commented. 

Mary glared at him. “You’re such a girl, you should bake him a bundt cake and buy him a fifth of whiskey.”

“At least,” agreed Stan.

The rest of the afternoon, Mary and Marshall were confined to the office, waiting to hear that Paddy was out of Albuquerque. Stan spent most of the time burning up the phone lines. Eleanor had given him some additional names and numbers to call. Mary, Marshall and Eleanor spent their time gleefully concocting payback on the stupid idiot who had almost caused the biggest single security breach of a WitSec office ever.

In other words, Situation Normal, All Fouled Up, Mary thought. Or funned up, Marshall thought.

A/N: Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, or just read this story. It’s my first long one and I’ve got a lot to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends my first multi chapter fanfic. Fair warning, I've got another IPS story idea. Remember Roxanne, the ABQ PD officer whose partner was gay? Yeah, her. And Abigail and Mary and Marshall. Stay tuned.


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